


Timely Lovers

by alSaqr, elisi



Series: The Exile [6]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27619831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alSaqr/pseuds/alSaqr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisi/pseuds/elisi
Summary: When Rodageitmososa answered a hypercube from Alexander Saxon asking for her to be his "someone", she never imagined how her life would change for the better, or what it would mean for their friendship. And no matter how it ended... those years would always mean more than she could ever say.A set of loosely-connected one-shots.
Relationships: Rodageitmososa/Captain Jack Harkness, Rodageitmososa/The Seeker
Series: The Exile [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/20309
Comments: 6
Kudos: 2





	1. The Cosmic Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of a life, and the start of something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I took month-long vacations in the stratosphere, and you know it's really hard to hold your breath.  
>  I swear I lost everything I ever loved or feared; I was the cosmic kid in full costume dress.  
> "Well, my feet they finally took root in the earth, but I got me a nice little place in the stars.  
> And I swear I found the key to the universe in the engine of an old parked car."_   
>  **\-- Bruce Springsteen, "Growing Up"**

**Roda**

**Got screwed over by time, and I need someone. Will you be my someone tonight?**  
**(Sorry about the bluntness of this by the way, but my current regeneration is about as romantic  
** **as a pair of bolt cutters. Hope you don't mind too much.)**

**S.**

Roda held Alex’s hypercube between fingers and thumbs, rolling it over and over in her hands while she tried to understand _why_ she had answered his call. Or rather… _how_ she was answering it. It had never been in her character to turn down a cry for help, even if - considering his parents - she might have thrown his message into the void once upon a time and quite blissfully pretended that she had never received it. But Alex was dear to her - unexpectedly so. And even if he _hadn_ _’t_ been, he had sent a message to her - not to the Redjay, but to _Rodageitmososa_ \- asking for he help. And she couldn’t turn him away. Not the way he had worded it.

She wasn’t sure _why_ he had been her first choice, though. Or perhaps she hadn’t. For all she knew, he could have gone through all of the usual suspects before settling for her. But she pushed the thought to the back of her mind, glancing at the proximity camera above her TARDIS console that was keeping an eye on the courtyard in the centre of Alexander’s home, waiting for him to appear. _This isn_ _’t about you_ , she reminded herself. _This is about Alexander._ And so she rocked back on her heels, and wondered if she’d tracked his cube to the correct year, and triple-checked the coordinates, and glanced at the cameras for the umpteenth time.

Would she be enough? Jack knew him better, or any of his human friends, she was sure. She'd been tutoring him for over a century now, but it was nothing particularly structured - for all that Alexander had tried to treat it like another degree - and she still felt a little bit out of the loop. Sure, she _liked_ him, and no longer considered him to be a mini Master, but it was one thing to reach that stage and quite another to be... how had he put it? His 'somebody'. But he’d been around humans all of his life, and even though Roda had been around them for even _longer_ she still didn’t understand them the way that Alexander did. Not the twenty first century, anyway. She hadn’t _had_ a proper upbringing. Maybe that was why he wanted her; neither had he.

But social calls had never been her forte, either. Much as she tried not to fuss, she tended to approach anything other than the most necessary time spent with anyone but her inner circle to be tricky at best and potentially a faux pas waiting to leap out of the shadows at worst. She could pretty much spend an infinite amount of time with Jack, tolerated the Doctor since his regeneration, and felt more or less at home if she ever returned to Sherwood… but these were uncharted waters. And though over the years, she had begun to consider Alexander a friend, she still wasn’t sure how to tread them.

As she caught sight of him approaching the door on the feed out of the corner of her eye, she shook her head, ran a hand through her hair and switched off the cameras. Before Alex could knock, or let himself in, Roda swung open the door and was caught off guard by not the face of Alexander, child of Harold Saxon but instead a flash of vivid, red hair.

She was about to comment that the hair suited him when she saw the look on his face, and made the second surprising decision of the day.

Alex gave a small gasp as Roda - all instincts in her body wanting to protect him - pulled him into a hug and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Her fingertips, still stained blue with woad, left marks on his dark blue coat that he would probably be annoyed about later on, and for the first time since he’d been a child, Roda realised she was taller than him. Chin resting on the top of his head, she stood there, holding him and murmuring nothing at all, until Alexander weakly returned the embrace and then stepped back to look her in the eye.

 _He_ _’s not bad-looking_ , Roda thought to herself. She’d seen him flirt with Jack before, she _knew_ that he wasn’t a child… but the new face changed something. Sharp features, blue eyes, bright hair. Her overly careful reply, via hypercube, that he was ‘always welcome’ now felt a little flat.

“You came.” His smile was obviously forced; Jack often wore a similar one. Roda nodded gently, and then opened her arms to invite her to step back into them. Hesitating for just a moment, he held onto her and dropped his head to her shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if you would. I’m a terrible flirt.”

“What are friends for?” Roda mumbled into the back of his head, stroking his shoulders. Alexander laughed darkly, the quiet sounded muffled further by the coarse fabric of Roda’s waistcoat.

“I assume you mean bad days…” Roda made a non-committal noise. “But there wasn’t anyone else I could go to.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 _He trusts me._ Roda reeled, stretching out her leg behind Alexander to kick the TARDIS door shut behind him. _He_ trusts _me. The enemy of his father._ The lights of her TARDIS dimmed to a gentle orange-red, and Alex swallowed hard, burying his face properly in Roda’s shoulder.

“I…”

“If you don’t want to,” Roda added hurriedly, “I’m here for that, too.”

He seemed so small, and so helpless. Roda found that all she wanted to know was who had hurt him and how, so that she could give their name to Jack - _or Rassilon help me, even the_ Master - so that somebody else could hurt them right back. She wanted Alexander to be safe, protected, shielded from harm. A Time Lord’s first regeneration, she knew, could be one of the most agonizing experiences of their lives. Many young Time Lords, back in her youth, chose to regenerate voluntarily, on Gallifrey, where they could ensure that if anything went wrong, or the pain was too much, they were around people who would know what to do. And Alex - far from the average Time Lord - had presumably had to do it _alone_. She gave him one last, tight squeeze and then pulled back to invite him into the rest of her TARDIS, smiling softly.

She wanted to ask if he was okay, but it seemed like a stupid question; insulting, really. But she wasn’t sure what to do. Alex smoothed down his shirt collar and gave her a hard look, and she jerked her head in the vague direction of the kitchen.

“Do you… want to go somewhere quiet?”

***

Roda still wasn’t sure how it happened. One minute the two of them had been talking - they’d made it to the Library, rather than the kitchen - and the next, they were kissing.

It wasn’t entirely unpleasant. In fact, it was incredibly pleasant, if something of a surprise. Roda found herself wondering, briefly, if Jack had ever given Alex any other advice about something other than kissing, because it was obvious that he had taught him this. Alex’s mouth felt almost familiar against hers while still being new, exciting, and slightly desperate.

And he was hurting. Roda could feel it in every touch of his hands, and the way that he gripped her as though she was a life-raft in a storm and he would sink without her. She knew he was an adult - had known, technically, for years - and that an adult Time Lord could be expected to take care of himself. She knew who he had been raised by; the Doctor, the Master, Jack, herself. But until she had received his hypercube - with it’s elegantly enameled ‘S’, an autograph and a declaration of self - she hadn’t realised how much that his adulthood meant that he could _hurt._ Something had happened, and she was beginning to worry that he hadn’t been killed by somebody else.

She expected him to pull back after the first kiss - to apologise, or to decide that he had made a mistake. _I wouldn't blame him._ Though she’d enjoyed the kiss she tried to give him the space _to_ leave, if he changed his mind… but he didn’t. And as she slowly came to realise that, she reached for the small of his back and dipped him into the cushions of the comfortable sofa she had shepherded them both onto. She understood this - this coping mechanism. She’d fallen into enough beds of her own in her time, seeking a way to take her mind off of pain she didn’t want to admit. Maybe all he wanted to do was kiss, and maybe he wanted something more, but she didn’t need instructions to know what part she was meant to play.

Running her hands up his slender spine, counting all of the bumps, Roda drew out the kiss and treated Alexander - the Seeker - the same way she would _any_ lover. As her fingers traced the shoulders of his coat, pulling it off him hungrily, she tried not to dwell too much on the faint smell of burned fabric, or the places where it was visibly scorched, or the blue stains that her own fingers were leaving behind like a story of their own. Once the coat had hit the floor (she wasn't sure she wanted to know why it was singed, and could think of a hundred unfortunate ways to die involving fire) she paused, her brow knitting into a frown and she paused to study his face.

“Are you-?”

The Seeker took hold of her hand, clasping it tight as if to assure her that he was fine. He had made his choice. _He wants to lose himself in the moment,_ she decided, squeezing back.

“Yes, Roda…”

And so she obliged. It had been a long time since she’d been with another Time Lord. She supposed she was the Seeker’s ‘first’. _This isn_ _’t the time to giggle about that._ A few seconds passed of gentle, curious kissing before the Seeker’s hands found the back of Roda’s neck, her shoulders, thumb rolling down to pass briefly over her brand before his fingers tightened against her arms and their bodies pressed together as much as their mouths. Roda found herself - within minutes - half horizontal, leaning over the Seeker and pressing a kiss to his jaw, his collarbone.

He began to relax beneath her practiced fingers, and so did Roda.

They picked up speed and confidence as they picked up on each others’ ticks. Roda had to stifle a laugh so hard she almost hit her head on the arm of the couch as the Seeker rolled up her shirt accidentally and discovered exactly where she was ticklish. For her part, Roda worked out pretty quickly that the Seeker reacted just as positively to being bitten as Jack did, and made cruel use of the knowledge. With the height difference, they wound up shifting until the Seeker was on top, helping Roda out of the last of her clothes and the catch on her bra - she was _still_ getting used to that - and she realised that she was thinking _far_ too much when his knee landed between her legs and she made a faint, keening noise.

Yes. _Less thinking, Roda_ , she told herself, earning a chuckle from the Seeker as he read her surface thoughts. _More of_ this.

Still, Rassilon help her, she had to be sure. Had to know the Seeker really knew what he wanted. She reached up to cup his cheek, resting her forehead against his.

“And you’ve-?”

“ _Yes_ ,” said the Seeker, caught between a laugh and a groan. “Yes, Roda, I chose _you_.”

Nothing else mattered after that. Nerves swiftly gave way to impatience, and in the ensuing hurriedness they almost left the sofa twice as the Seeker helped Roda out of her shirt by pulling it over her head and she undid the buckle and zip of his trousers without even looking. _Hadn_ _’t he joined the circus at some point?_ briefly crossed her mind as, by some miracle, they didn’t hit the ground. But then the two of them were skin to skin and taking a moment to appreciate each other and it hit Roda like a freight train that neither of them expected anything from one another. It was just them, in that moment, finding a common ground and making it _theirs._

The Seeker leaned over Roda, his weight on his arms, and she rolled her hips enticingly, pressing her lips to his neck and switching instinctively to telepathy.

« _I want you._ »

The Seeker laughed out loud as he took hold of her again, eyes lidded with seduction.

« _I know._ »

***

There were at least two larger, far more comfortable beds in her TARDIS, but neither of them really wanted to get up from the couch. Roda groped blindly underneath it, looking for one of the blankets that she knew she’d abandoned there on of the many times she’d fallen asleep in the library. It echoed as she flapped it open, and she shuffled to one side of the sofa so that she could offer the Seeker an open arm to curl up against as she pulled the cardinal red cotton sheet over them both.

As a satisfied expression threatened to break past the solemn one that the Seeker had begun the night with, Roda planted a kiss to his forehead and stretched out her legs, properly entangling them from her with a contented sigh.

“Well, Seeker. That was pleasant.”

The Seeker snorted, and closed his eyes. “That’s one way to make a guy feel special. ‘Pleasant’.”

She smacked the back of his head with a flick of her wrist, letting her head rest on the arm of the chair as she closed her eyes as well.

“Fine. _Very_ pleasant. How about that?”

“It’ll do.”

 _He is his father_ _’s son,_ thought Roda, absentmindedly, _but that_ _’s… okay. Because he’s not_ him. Though she would never admit that there were part of the Master that she liked - if she never saw him again, in any of her lives, it would be too soon - but she had to admit that the Seeker’s confidence and charm was, well, charming. Just so long as it didn’t turn into the confidence to do things like dominate worlds or pull the legs off instincts… She ran her hands through his mussed hair, appreciating that he had let her in close enough to see him when he wasn’t at his best; both emotionally, and physically. Messy suited him, though unless there was a repeat of - of _this_ , she suspected she wouldn’t be seeing it again any time soon.

She wouldn’t have minded a repeat.

“So, how do I compare?”

Roda blinked, startled out of her thoughts by the question. “Huh?”

“To Jack.”

“Oh. _Oh_.” Her eyes widened in recognition and then she chuckled loudly, running a hand over her face to wipe away tears of laughter. Palm lingering over her mouth, as though she could force her words back in, she struggled to hold it together. The Seeker looked at her with blue paint on his cheek and his hair sticking out at all angles, and the giggles didn’t stop. _C_ _’mon Roda,_ she chastised herself, _since when were you a giggling Tot again?_ “You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Isn’t that what guys _do_?” The Seeker laughed. “Besides I must confess to a certain curiosity - we've never shared a lover before." A beat. "Sorry, this is coming out all wrong. Told you I'm no good at this...”

Roda prodded the Seeker in the side. “If it helps, I don’t think I _could._ Compare, I mean.” Her fingers danced up and down his bare side thoughtfully. “You’re too different. But… _wow_.” She stuck out her tongue at the reproachful look he shot her as her hand withdrew. “You should visit more often.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Maybe I’d like that.” The Seeker hummed, his eyes dropping ever so slightly once more. Roda tightened her embrace around his shoulders and lowered her voice. “So. Time screwing you over? Wanna talk about it?”

“Yes and no…” the Seeker played with a stray strand of Roda’s hair, pushing it behind her ear to join a feather he had well and truly dislodged in their tumbling. Roda pulled a face, gesturing at him to continue with her free hand. “It’s just…” The Seeker took a deep breath, and launched in at the deep end. “I could do it, Roda. Fairly easily too - after all, Dad invented a paradox machine,” Roda flinched, slightly, at the memory, “the theory is all there ready to be used. That's the worst part.”

“Do…?” she asked, hesitantly.

“Time Lords. We’re supposed to be so all-powerful,” the Seeker clarified, his face serious.

Roda shot the Seeker a look he probably didn’t know her well enough, yet, to understand. Yes, she remembered being told that. How the Time Lords had so much responsibility and power, and how they were better than everybody else in the universe because… well, because they _said_ so, so far as she’d ever been able to work out. Because they discovered the trick to time travel, first? Because they could accelerate cellular regeneration when fatally wounded? Because they had a fancy planet with a lot of fancy architecture and Lords and Ladies in fancy, stiff collars making fancy rules to show off how fancy they were?

Back in the Academy they’d heard it night and day like a mantra. Even renegades like herself, the Doctor, the Master, were still touted as paragons of greatness. Some, like the Master, still lived by it; the Doctor dispensed justice by it. Roda, for all that she wished she wasn’t a part of it, knew that she benefited from it, too. How many times had she swept in to save people who hadn’t _asked_ for her, no matter how grateful they might be later on? And she had survived the destruction of her species because of sheer dumb luck… and technological advantage. But that wasn’t a topic for today, and the thoughts rushed through her mind to the back of her thoughts as the Seeker continued. _I can_ _’t blame him,_ she reminded herself. _That_ _’s all his father ever told him._

"I was always taught that I was... different. Powerful. That anything I wanted was just there at my fingertips...” Roda nodded, encouraging him to continue. “My father wanted me to take it, the Doctor was always worrying that I would. Just like Al-" He caught himself just in time, and Roda rubbed his shoulder again. “…She said. But what then?” The Seeker shrugged, burying his face in Roda’s collarbone again. “And sometimes... oh sometimes I know exactly why Dad decided to do whatever the hell he liked.” There were a lot of things Roda could have said but she kept her mouth shut. She trusted the Seeker. “The power we have is very real. But the freedom to use it? That is only an illusion. It-”

“Trust me,” Roda interrupted, bitterly, despite telling herself not to. “I know.” At the Seeker’s surprised expression, she sighed and elaborated. “The first time I met Jack, he was a Time Agent. That was… messy.” The Seeker’s face said, amongst other things, ‘no shit!’ “And the first time I was flagged by the Shadow Proclamation, I just thought – with a flick of my wrist, a quick trip in the TARDIS, none of these people would give a damn what I did. Tick, boom, no judoon.”

“I’ve done that,” admitted the Seeker. “Dealt with the paparazzi.”

“Glad I never had _that_ problem.”

“Just as well, I guess.” He snorted. “Got very close to - to things I shouldn’t have done.”

“Because if you just… tweaked things, just a little…”

“They wouldn’t know me.”

She stroked his cheek. “And they wouldn’t judge you.”

“But we’re _Time Lords_ ,” continued the Seeker, darkly. “So who are they to judge us? Except… they’re just as important. But sort of… not.”

“Exactly,” nodded Roda, opening up. She knew he what he was trying to say, despite how it was coming out. “I never liked the way Gallifrey was ruled in my time but I still felt… entitled?” She shook her head, cheeks flushing. “Ras - the Lord President, he wanted me to go into politics. Plenty of Time Lords would have killed for the ‘casual internship’ I got. People said I’d been handed a life on a silver platter, but I never _wanted_ it. Not really.” _And it made me time_ _’s bitch._ The Seeker rested his hand on her knee with a familiarity they hadn’t had just an hour ago. “That was my idea of hell.”

“All my life, I've told I'm entitled.” The Seeker sighed. “I mean, in a way, they’re right. So were you. We can do anything. I learned that quickly enough.” He looked at the roof. “But when I was a kid, the Doctor told me that I had to look after time. Sure, I can bend the universe to my will but lately I’ve realised it’s the other way around. You told me when Rassilon made us Time Lords, it wasn’t always meant for everyone, right?” Roda nodded. “It was meant for the nobility, and then gradually, that changed. Time Lords started to think they were all important. But ‘Lord’ is the wrong word.”

Roda tilted her head. _Of all the people in all the universe_ _…_ “What would _you_ choose?”

“We’re servants,” concluded the Seeker. “Servants of time. We’re not meant to exist outside of it because without being on our master’s leash, we feel ill. Wrong.”

Roda wrinkled her nose. “Poor choice of words.”

“Ah. Yes.” The Seeker flushed. “Sorry. But you know what I mean. All the old laws, they taught us to respect and fear what our upbringing told us was our birth right. It's just... I've known all this in the abstract, and following the rules has always been a choice - a pre-emptive choice. I've never... felt the force of time before. Felt it literally weigh me down, and known just how great a force would be needed to-" He stopped himself, eyes lost.

“Breathe…”

The Seeker shot Roda a grateful, but weak, smile. "I felt my power, felt it right into my very core... And I knew I couldn't use it, no matter how much I wanted to. No matter how much it hurt to... step away." She could hear the strain in his words, sense the emotions that were obviously still raw and just below the surface. But when he turned to her, he studied her earnestly, his eyes clear. "I think that's why it had to be you. I can't imagine anyone else would even begin to understand."

Roda laughed sharply. “Try working for time for over a thousand years.”

“I just feel like a puppet. A highly intelligent, powerful… Rag doll.” The Seeker sighed, and smiled. “Bit of a mood kill, huh?”

“Nah.” Roda shrugged in turn, “You should hear Jack’s pillow talk.”

“I’m… not sure if I _want_ to.”

“Clever.” Roda chuckled, and then took a deep breath. “You’re _almost_ right, though. Non-interference policy, Celestial Intervention Agency, Oubliette of Eternity… It’s all in there to protect time if we screw up.” Roda wrinkled her nose. “You’re a bit more responsible about it than I ever was.”

“But we’re not that different.” Roda lifted her head to look at the Seeker more closely. “No, hear me out. I mean, salt and pepper about a lot of things, I get that, but neither of our lives have gone the way we, or anyone else, planned. We both got screwed over one way or another. You’ve rebuilt your life from scratch, but…”

“If you say so.”

“ _Exactly._ I have so many plans… I don’t have time to be so helpless.”

 _Not_ feeling all that helpless thank-you-very-much (but understanding the point that the Seeker was trying to make) Roda rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. “You learn to work with it. Find the cracks, and the hiding places. Little ways to get away from it all, for a little bit.” _Like right now, for example. It_ _’s been… a while, since I let my_ own _guard down like this, with anyone but Jack._ “And then with practice, you make the cracks bigger and bigger and hope for the best."

“Is that what Jack is?” asked the Seeker, knowingly. Roda made a noise of surprise. “And me?” He added, a little more tentatively. “Safe hiding places?”

“Places I don’t _have_ to hide,” Roda corrected, catching herself off guard with the truth. “And then once they’re - _you_ _’re_ found, don’t ever let them, or one person, or the whole universe tell you when to let go.”

The two Time Lords slipped into silence once more, eyes closed and breathing heavy. Neither one of them wanted to dwell on their own mortality. The sex, the letting go, and the talk… It had been good, for them both. _Excellent, even._ Eventually, though, the Seeker opened one eye and squeezed Roda’s arm to get her attention. She looked down at him, eyebrow quirked.

“You called me Seeker,” the Seeker smirked.

“So I did.”

 _He_ _’s not the child I met on the Valiant. Not anymore._

“And you called me Roda. Not Redjay. My friends call me Roda.”

“So they do.” Of course he’d worked it out before she had. As it sunk Roda blinked, then shook her head fondly. “So what do friends-with-benefits call you?”

Roda laughed, thumping him in the side. “Ask Jack, you menace,” she commented, sliding out from underneath him and straddling his lap. Her arms penned him in by the shoulders, as she made herself _quite_ comfortable where she was. She leaned in, her mouth just inches from his ears and relished in the way that his whole body tensed, and then shivered. Her fingertips stroked his neck before her hands rested on his collarbones, and she nuzzled into him. “So…”

The Seeker smirked. “So?”

“So…” Roda shrugged, playfully. “When do I get the proper tour of _your_ place?”


	2. The Cosmic Kids. Epilogue.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's an epilogue. It wraps things up.

The pillow talk was interrupted by a faint voice calling "Roda?" 

Roda and the Seeker looked at each other, before glancing around at the scattered clothing strewn around the room and their own nakedness. The Seeker bit his lip, trying to stop from laughing.

"I'll go," he finally said. "You know what he'll be like, and there's no need for you to have to deal with that on top of everything I've already thrown at you."

Roda reached up, hand on his cheek, searching his face, clearly making sure that he was sufficiently recovered... After all, he _had_ been rather a mess when she'd answered his call. Leaning into the touch he felt the double pulse like a lifeline ( _the same, we are the same, time and eternity etched into our souls_ ) and drew a deep breath. (It had been the right call, far more so than he'd suspected.)

"I'm fine, trust me."

Rooting around amongst the clothing he managed to locate his trousers, noting with a wince the dirt and the creases... The last 24 hours- he would not have worn his best trousers if he'd known what had been in store. Walking down the calming red corridors towards the control room, he remembered that his only plans had been a nice book in front of the fireplace. That seemed forever ago.

The Doctor stared at him with surprise (although given the fact that Roda was parked in his courtyard, it wasn't exactly illogical to find him here) and he could see the Doctor reaching the same conclusion, then tilting his head, as the Seeker leaned against the wall, feeling the soft hum against his skin and waiting.

"Sorry, but... Why-"

The Doctor's hand fluttered, and the Seeker tried to force his emotions down.

"I needed someone. Roda was kind enough to answer."

The surprise gave way to concern.

"Seeker, you know you can always-"

"Yes, but I don't want to sleep with you," he cut in, and the Doctor's mouth turned into a perfect o, as the semi-nudity registered properly.

"I- I'll come back later," he said finally, obviously discomforted, and the Seeker tilted his head.

"No worries - it doesn't bother _me_ that you're here. But then that part of my education was overseen by Jack, as I'm sure you recall. Next time - presuming there is a next time - I'll put up a balloon if you want?"

He saw the flinch - miniscule though it was - and told himself that he was too old to still try to score points this way. Although the mention of Jack’s name reminded him that he would have to check up on Jack at some point. Of course Jack might just turn up looking for some TLC too. Or maybe he was just out there getting blind drunk... He wasn’t sure where Jack was in his timeline, so wasn’t sure where he’d go. Finding him might be difficult.

Looking away from the Doctor, the Seeker tiredly rubbed his face. If only he hadn't answered Jack's call, he'd have avoided tonight's heartache - avoided blood on his hands, avoided this new, unwanted feeling of helplessness. Yet he knew that if he hadn't, things would undoubtedly have turned out far worse. Not for him personally, but overall. And what was his own pain compared to that? (Allison lost to him forever, her final goodbye seared into his memory. Letting her go for one last time...)

"Seeker?" Belatedly he realised that the Doctor had been trying to get his attention.

"What? Sorry, it's been... A long day. Evening. Thing." He raised his hand in a vague gesture. "If you need Roda, I'll fetch her for you. She might be dressed by now."

The Doctor studied him silently for a long moment, and the Seeker wondered just how long it'd be before his father knew. The Doctor wouldn't say anything (it was _complicated_ , and the Doctor - by now - knew better than to interfere), but his father... For a split-second he recalled his first ever memory of Roda, beaten and subjugated, and shuddered to the very marrow of his bones. What was he doing feeling sorry for himself? He was the lucky one...

"Just- tell her I'll be in touch," the Doctor said, before rapidly exiting, and the Seeker slowly made his way back to Roda, almost collapsing back into her arms. It would seem that the events were finally catching up with him... He’d forgotten how _exhausting_ emotions were. 

“Seeker?” she asked, a frown digging into her brow as he struggled out of his trousers and started to make an attempt at undressing her again (he wanted to get back to where they’d been at before, that quiet calm and closeness). “How did it go?”

He shrugged.

“Oh, he very eloquently said nothing at all. And quite frankly I don’t care what he thinks. I just realised that I’ve not slept in... far too long, and I’m worn out. There was running - far too much running, I _hate_ running; if you have to run, it means you’ve not planned properly.” 

Managing to get her shirt off, as she’d gone still listening, he started on her blue-stained trousers (she’d made a right mess of them, all for his sake... something caught in his throat at the thought of that), even as he kept talking.

“And then there was the point when being a Time Lord translated into being judge, jury and executioner. And that was the easy part, comparatively...”

He let the sentence hang, as he wrapped his arms around her, feeling her cool skin against his own and the soothing thrum of four hearts beating in unison, the TARDIS surrounding them, and his own planet beneath them - grounding them, grounding _him_. 

(Everything felt _right_ ; his internal equilibrium slowly returning, like the tide coming in. _Time, time, time_... Everything that was, everything there would be - he let it wash over him, as he gently reached out and touched the very edge of Roda’s mind; that shared, fundamental awareness the final touching stone in allowing his mind to let go, as he with a sigh sank back into the sofa, pulling her with him.)

Roda, sensing that he was slipping out of consciousness, kissed him on the forehead, and curled up with her head on his chest. 

She didn’t sleep for a long time, however - her mind ticking over, restless. Somehow she would have to work out what this meant. The Master’s son - all grown up, all his own - and he had fled into _her_ arms. Tracing patterns on his gently rising chest as he slept the deep, senseless sleep of pure exhaustion, she marvelled at the level of trust he was placing in her. Sex was one thing, but _sleep_... 

Smiling, she finally closed her eyes.

 _Sleeping_ together. 

How very apt.


	3. By the Fireside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the Master found out.

The light from the large fireplace danced across the walls and ceiling of the circular sitting room, shadows flickering in the dark recesses as orange flames lent their hue to every surface, making the scarlet sheets seem as if they were fashioned from liquid rubies. 

Roda’s head on his chest, his arm around her shoulder, the Seeker was leisurely relating the story of how he and Jack had hunted down and killed the large beast whose pelt was spread out before the hearth. It had made a far more comfortable base for love making than the couch they’d used their first time, and Roda had stroked it appreciatively, before wondering out loud just where it had come from - its size was truly impressive.

They were sitting with their backs against the largest of the sofas that formed a semi-circled around the fireplace, curled up underneath the silk sheets, the fur rug beneath them, and the whole cosmos reduced to their own little amber world, the flames as bright as the sky outside before the suns had set - which was probably why neither of them registered the presence of another Time Lord before he was halfway across the room, already speaking.

“Seeker, I was going ask you-”

A moment of deep silence, only broken by the crackle of the fire, as he took in the scene. The Seeker could feel Roda tense, and felt sure she was nearly baring her teeth - her innate fight or flight response would have over-activated, and he tightened his hold imperceptibly. 

( _Trust me. I’ve got this._ ) 

His father’s face, however, was a picture. Not a very nice picture, but a picture nonetheless. The Seeker watched it closely, as he wanted to remember it and possibly extract it later to show Jack. He’d like that. A few drinks... It could be the making of a stellar night. 

Finally his father found his voice.

“What the _hell_?”

The Seeker smiled lazily, caressing a stray feather.

“I know... Rassilon’s ward takes Renegade’s son as her lover. Shocking - especially considering that my mother was human, never mind the age difference. Shame Gallifrey is gone, this could have had them gossiping for years.”

And it would seem he had actually rendered his father speechless - this was almost better than Christmas. 

(If he was honest, he was also pleased to have found yet another item to add to his list of 'Ways In Which I Have Screwed Over My Father’s Expectations'... Idly he wondered how long it'd take before his father got the message. Maybe Roda would help in this regard - they were both of them independent and intransigent to a degree most people found off-putting. Maybe his father would see the connection?)

Or maybe not.

"Seeker..." he began through clenched teeth, looking fit to burst. 

"Yes, father?" he replied, keeping his voice as light as he could, but letting his smile drop abruptly as the Master continued unaffected.

"I don't know what game this is-"

"Not a game," the Seeker interrupted, letting his anger show through. "If you don't approve of my life choices, I'd suggest you leave my planet."

They locked eyes for a long moment, a silent battle of wills, then his father made a dismissive noise and shrugged.

"Well... Far be it from me to stand in the way of something as commendable as _love_. I hope you will be very happy together."

His voice was dripping with sarcasm, but it was undercut rather effectively by a snort of disbelief from Roda.

Trying to stop from laughing, the Seeker watched his father's face cloud over once more, but when he replied he tried to cram as much quiet threat as he could into the words, the cold smile on his face hopefully serving as a warning too.

"Love is the last thing on my mind. But this is... a very pleasant diversion, and I would certainly rate Roda as one of my dearest friends now. Can I help you by the way, or will you see yourself out?" 

The glow from the flames seemed to light his father's eyes as his attention abruptly fastened on Roda, and the Seeker could feel his hearts sink.

"Well played Redjay. Well played. I think I might be impressed."

Her pulse was by now doing a tap dance, and he could feel her unease like a physical thing, but to the Seeker's relief Roda's response was tightly controlled.

"Don't ever measure me with your yard stick, Master - I would _never_ use your son as a pawn."

The past hung between them, dark and bloodstained, and the Seeker gritted his teeth. He wasn't doing this, not ever again.

"Dad - I am... _beyond_ insulted that you think I could ever be anyone's puppet, and I will _not_ be fought over. I am seriously advising you to leave before you say something you will regret."

His father's eyes narrowed, and he was clearly about to speak when the Seeker decided cut in again, lifting the hand that wasn't holding Roda in place (this juggling of disparate elements was obviously like riding a bicycle - once learned, you could get right back into it in less than a heartsbeat. It was still exhausting though).

"And if you say 'This isn't over yet' to her, I _swear_ I will knock you out cold!"

A smile - small, but significant - appeared on his father's face, and he nodded once.

"As you wish, son."

With a flourish he turned on his heel and was very careful to close the door soundlessly behind him. The Seeker could feel Roda shiver, and wrapped both arms around her, kissing her cheek. 

"Sorry about my parentage. I like to think that I can do anything, but fixing _him_ will probably always be beyond me..."

Seeing that she was still not relaxing at all, he carefully turned her face towards him.

"Hey, listen. Don't worry. It's been like this since the day I was born - everyone I love seems to hate each other. And they all know the drill by now - I do _not_ want anyone hurt. He'll huff and puff for a while, but he doesn't want to antagonise me..." 

Eyes narrowing, he smiled a smile worthy of his father. "He did once. He and the Doctor both. Don't suppose Jack ever told you - no he wouldn't, he's good at keeping our secrets. It's so long ago now, I was only a kid, and they tried to punish me. _That_ backfired rather spectacularly, as all they did was make me more determined than ever to do my own thing, no matter what."

He tilted his head, pleased at the way her eyes were now glittering. "And why do I have a feeling that you know exactly what I mean?"

Reaching up, cradling his face, she studied him silently for a long moment, and he would have given his eyeteeth to know what was going through her head.

"Finish the story about the rug," she finally said, one of her feathers catching the firelight and gleaming like molten gold. 

He dipped his head.

"Your wish is my command, My Lady," he solemnly replied. 

(She was well named. As vivid and unconstrained as a bird... That she chose to land by him was something close to a miracle.)

Roda settled down to listen once more, far more apprehensive about possible consequences than her young lover - but his hair was the colour of fire and the sky, bright and vivid, like a reflection of his soul. And not for all the worlds did she want to dim that light.


	4. His Father's Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master and his son have a discussion about the Redjay. It doesn't go quite as the Master anticipated...

Despite the many ways in which human society had moved on during the 200 years that separated the 21st and 23rd Centuries, there were still times when the political machinations the Master was currently indulging in gave him a distinct sense of deja-vu.

And then there were days when he was sharply reminded of all the ways in which his own life had changed...

Back then he’d not had a son who would waltz into his office in the brightest red coat the Master had ever seen and perch himself on the desk, studying him with eyes as keen and sharp as his own.

“We need to talk,” the Seeker said, and the Master leaned back in his chair.

“You know, I have guards out there to stop people just walking in from the street...”

The Seeker’s face split in a wide grin.

“I _saw_! It’s very cute. Does it create the desired effect?”

“Pretty much. Didn’t give you any grief, did they?”

The Seeker raised an offended eyebrow.

“I should think I am capable of walking through a handful of humans without being seen, father. And I can't help noticing that you are derailing the conversation before we've even started it.”

Sighing, the Master tilted his head.

“Very well. I... presume you've come to talk about the Redjay.”

“That would be correct, yes.”

The Seeker’s blue eyes were cool and considered, and really, there was no way of getting around it. Accidentally finding his only, beloved son in the arms of a sworn adversary had caused a deep and significant shock, as well as a quiet fury which had yet to blossom into anything solid, but there was ample time for that.

Right now, however, there was the business of trying to find out why this extraordinary liaison had taken place in the first place... He sat forward, looked up at the boy - all cheekbones and sharp lines in his red coat. It was a new coat, he was sure, and the colour might be a subtle message all on its own. _Damn_ that woman. He cleared his throat, trying to put on his most reasonable face.

“So - here's the thing. I don't see our Redjay in... _ages_. More than a century. And when I _do_ stumble upon her she's shacked up with you, which - I must admit - I wasn’t expecting. However..." His eyes narrowed, "I seem to remember that she had some trouble with You Know Who which you helped her with. Am I correct in presuming that we have a case of time discrepancies, and this is all rather recent for you?”

There was a pause, as the Seeker studied him in silence, the cogs in his brain obviously ticking over rapidly. When he finally spoke there was more than a hint of hesitation in his voice.

“You think... You think she's sleeping with me out of gratitude for helping save her life?”

The Master shrugged, aiming for a smile and failing.

“Well it’s either that or a surprisingly wily plan to get back at me through the person I love the most. But she protested so very valiantly against the very idea - plus that’s never been her MO, she’s too... principled for that kinda thing - well, I must admit I ran out of ideas.”

As he spoke, however, the Seeker had been slowly shaking his head

“I... can't begin to say how wrong you are. But since you're curious... Yes, that incident is fairly recent, and it's probably what helped earn her trust.”

Another pause, as the Master waited for him to continue, and then impatiently broke the silence himself.

“Well go on then... why _is_ she sleeping with you? I’m presuming there’s a reason and she didn’t just fall through the door, naked, and into your arms.”

The Seeker casually brushed his hair off his forehead, making sure that the light was as flattering as possible, smugness and pure challenge radiating from his eyes. “Because I'm hot?”

_Kids_. The lad was more than two hundred now, and still he revelled in winding up his father. The Master took a deep breath, and forced his temper under control. They were _not_ having another round of _that_ particular argument.

“ _Apart_ from that.”

This time he waited, and the Seeker sighed in a mock-defeat which his eyes belied.

“Fine, if you're that curious - _I_ came to _her_. And she was kind enough to accept my proposal. That's all you're getting.”

He had not been expecting this. The Seeker’s face was a perfect blank, and he wondered whether there was some kind of story behind the development - or whether the Seeker had just decided that he’d like to try sex with another Time Lord. Either alternative was as likely as the other.

He didn’t get any further in his musings however, as the Seeker was clearly keen to move on.

“Listen - why it started isn’t important. It did, and it’s probably going to continue, because it’s very pleasant to say the least. But there is one problem - _you_.”

Part of him wanted to protest, but a lie that big and obvious was impossible for even him - in this instance at least he cared _very much_ where his son bedded. The Redjay - infuriating, intransigent, a relic from a lost world and _refusing_ to ever bend to his will... The idea of _his son_ sharing _any_ kind of intimacy with her was unpalatable to him in ways he couldn't even begin to describe. If he was honest he had been half-relieved when she'd started working for Torchwood and subsequently fell of his radar. She and the Freak made a good couplet of impossible things.

Looking at the Seeker he grimaced, trying his best to appear casual.

“So, what is this - you’re going to warn me off going after her? That’s very gallant of you, especially considering how it’s only a casual thing...”

The Seeker smiled, a smile that caught the Master unawares and suddenly made his breath hitch.

“You’re on the right track, except I _know_ you. You’re perfectly capable of being subtle when you want to - if, say, a strange artifact just happened to fall through the rift and injure her, then I am certain no one would ever be able to trace it back to you. So I’ve decided on a slightly different cause of action: Whatever befalls her, befalls you. Very Biblical, actually. Funny that, I don't think I've ever been Biblical before.”

Of all the ridiculous ideas the youngster had thought up! The Master tried his best not to sneer - it wouldn’t do to talk down to the boy. But still.

“Right then... because _you_ happen to be sleeping with her, _I_ become responsible for her welfare? And you say you are not infatuated...”

Sitting up a little straighter, the smile faded from the Seeker’s face with an abruptness that would have been alarming in anyone else.

“I'm not making you 'responsible' for her because I'm sleeping with her. I'm making you responsible because she is more terrified of _you_ than her own death. I _remember_ what you did back then, during The Year That Never Was, and that's obviously only a fraction - she's not going to share, and I don't want to know. But I want it to _end_. And the only way it's going to end, is for you to back off. So to ensure that, I thought up this little arrangement. Very simply I don't want her to be worse off because of me.”

With dawning horror the Master realised that the boy was deathly serious.

“But... the woman is a complete danger magnet. _Plus_ she works for Torchwood - it's only a question of time before she gets herself killed! Their average life expectancy is less than a Sontaran’s.”

The Seeker’s face betrayed no emotion.

“Well if it came to that, I suppose I'd have to kill you too.”

“Now don't be stupid,” the Master replied, beginning to get rather bothered by the turn of the conversation.

But the Seeker merely readopted that delightfully dark smile. (Well, it would be delightful if it wasn’t directed at _him_.)

“Daddy dearest, you're an evil psychotic megalomaniac. Killing you would be doing the universe a favour.”

The Master shook his head, feeling oddly shaken. Part of him couldn’t believe that he was considering taking this seriously, and yet... The look on the boy’s face made warning bells ring in places that he knew better than to ignore.

“You wouldn't...”

His son held his eyes, the challenge unmistakable.

“Wouldn't I?”

For the longest moment they held each other’s eyes, before eventually the Seeker tilted his head, features softening.

“Besides, there are only four of us. Seems a shame to waste so much effort on in-fighting. Plus...”

He hesitated, biting his lip, and the Master couldn't help himself from prompting.

“Plus?”

“Well, Roda... You like her.”

Wondering whether the kid had completely lost his marbles, he shook his head, incredulous.

“I can assure you-”

But the Seeker cut him off.

”Listen old man. The Doctor and I - we love you. We're stupid for doing so, but we do; no need to pretend we don't. But Roda... Roda really, _really_ hates your guts. She would flay you alive without a second's remorse, and you...”

A beat as he leant in, studying his father's face with an unnerving combination of concentration and quiet triumph.

“... _like_ that.”

Eternities seemed to pass as the words sank in, and when the Master finally found his voice, he wasn’t quite capable of keeping it under control.

_”Son...”_

Taking a deep breath, he studied the wonder in front of him with undiluted delight and appreciation. _His_ son. His son to the very marrow of his bones.

“...does your little girfriend know just what manner of man she is getting involved with?”

The Seeker lazily swung his feet onto the floor and stood up.

“She is neither little, nor my girlfriend. And what she knows or doesn’t know about me... We’ll that’s none of your business. Which is what all of this has been about really. Keep your nose to yourself. In return I shall get out of your hair and leave you to your machinations. Try not to kill anyone? I know it’s politics, but murder is messy and leaves a trail - besides, humans are so _very_ corruptible... Get your kicks elsewhere.”

Leaning forward on the desk, the Master studied him.

"Seriously, you'll just... leave?"

The Seeker shrugged. "I have actual work to do, plus I'm sure the Doctor will show up if you get too noisy. And the stars forbid _I_ should come between The Enmity of Ages."

Strolling across to the door he put his hand on the handle, then turned to shoot his father a bright smile - tall, sharp and perfectly self-assured, his hair like a polished flame falling over his forehead - and the Master could not for all the worlds have denied him anything at all.

After the door had closed, he sat for a long while in silence, carefully turning over the new developments over in his mind.

Finally a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He had to keep the Redjay safe? Well, he would... _surprise_ her yet. The future was literally brimming with possibilities...


	5. At An Impasse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master sends a coded message, Jack finds a newspaper, and Roda negotiates terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **im·passe | \ ˈim-ˌpas , im-ˈpas \**
> 
> Definition of impasse:  
> 1a: a predicament affording no obvious escape  
> b: DEADLOCK

The discussion that Rodageitmososa and the Master had been avoiding for the last couple of months finally came to head because of a newspaper.

It was a discussion that Roda had hoped she would never _actually_ have to have, but as she and the Seeker had discussed that night he had fallen into her arms, sometimes you had to be time’s bitch. Today was apparently going to be one of those days. She knew, deep down, that a relationship with the Seeker was never going to last. Oh, it (probably) wouldn’t end badly, and it might go on for centuries, but they both understood that neither of them were the sort to settle down with one lover for good. (Not that it was a monogamous thing, for either of them.) She saw no point on dwelling when that day would _come_ , but since she never particularly wanted to see the Master at the best of times, she had made the decision that it would probably be best not to see him for the duration of sleeping with his son.

The Master, apparently, had come to quite the opposite conclusion.

Jack placed the newspaper in Roda’s lap with a grim, tight smile on his face. The kind of smile, she knew, looking up at him from her perch beside the coffee machine as she waited for it to brew, that meant that he was about to follow it up with ‘now, before we jump to any conclusions’. She picked it up without glancing at him, trying to look calm while anxiety chewed at the edges of her thoughts, and shook the papers until they flattened out and she could get a good look at the front page.

Her feet were back on the floor before she realised she’d stood up, back rigid. Jack placed his hands on both her shoulders and squeezed them tightly as she read and re-read the thick, bold lettering with growing horror.

“Now,” the immortal said, quietly, massaging Roda’s tight muscles, “before we jump to any conclusions…”

“What conclusions, Jack?” said Roda, through her teeth, trying to remind herself that losing her cool and snapping at Jack would get her nowhere. “What _possible_ conclusions could I wrongly jump to?”

“It might not be _him_.”

“Oh, really?” she asked, her voice rising a little in pitch, as she waved the newspaper in front of Jack’s face and tapped the six damning words a little too insistently. Behind them, jealous that Roda had stopped practically salivating over it, the coffee machine gave a little gurgle and a _ding_ as it finished brewing. She blindly grabbed at it with her free hand as Jack took his cue to step out of her way, gulping down half of the steaming cup before coming up for a breath. She had another, slow sip - resisting the urge to start the machine boiling again and drown her sorrows in caffeine - and sank into a nearby chair, throwing the newspaper down on the table in front of her. “ _Master_ hunter?” she read, sarcastically. “Rare _red bird_?”

The front page of the paper - dated 14th November, 2212, and so presumably a ‘gift’ from the rift - looked innocuous enough at first glance. The headline was something unimportant and irrelevant that probably wouldn’t need their attention, down the line; and Torchwood tried not to mess with time travel anyway, despite having Roda on their task force. But further down the page was a photograph of a trophy, ribbons on the handle flapping in the wind, held in front of a lithe, pale-haired figure whose face was obscured. Above it were the words: _Master Hunter Traps Rare Red Bird_ , and a brief biography of said Master Hunter’s political career (continued on page 4).

“It… could be a… pheasant?” suggested Jack, weakly. Roda pulled a face.

“In Britain,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion, “in the early twenty second century.”

“I mean,” Jack rubbed the back of his neck, “you have to agree he’s the sort to kill for sport.”

 _Barely_ flinching, Roda raised an eyebrow at Jack over the rim of her coffee mug. “Jack, if you didn’t think it was important,” she said, frustration beginning to colour her words, “you wouldn’t have showed it to me. Ianto’d already be shredding it.”

With a sigh of resignation, Jack shuffled himself into the chair beside Roda’s, and wrapped an arm around her waist. It was still early morning, probably still dark outside - neither of them had left the Hub, yet - and they had the place to themselves. _Which is just as well,_ Roda mused, _because I might be about to lose my mind and someone would go nuts if the coffee machine is caught in the cross-fire._ Roda rested her head against her friend’s shoulder with a weary sigh of her own, gripping the mug of coffee so tightly her arms were practically shaking. If anybody could understand why a simple message could unnerve her, it was Jack.

“Where’s it from?”

“The rift,” replied Jack, confirming her suspicion. “I found it while rooting through the stuff we fished out of the Roath basin last night, before I sent the Twins home.” He pursed his lips. “There’s some kind of club opening they wanted to attend. Something _Heaven?_ ” Roda shrugged; it wasn’t really her sort of thing. “Anyway, they looked about ready to shoot me if I asked them to work overtime.”

“ _I_ _’m_ about ready to shoot you right now,” joked Roda, half-heartedly.

“That’s hardly fair,” chuckled Jack. “Here I thought I was doing you a favour.”

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Roda argued, vaguely aware how childish her protest sounded. “Can’t I just… ignore it.”

“Do you want to?” asked Jack, honestly. _And surprised._

“…I shouldn’t,” Roda muttered. “But it’s probably about… _y_ _’know._ ”

“Yeah,” agreed Jack, grimly.

Roda had another drink of coffee, calming her nerves. _It_ _’s just a message, so far. That’s all it is. Could be nothing at all, could just be him being a prick. As usual._ But she had to admit that Jack both taking it seriously, and asking her what _she_ wanted to do was reassuring in ways it was hard to explain. For a moment, they sat in silence; Roda gnawing at her lip, Jack waiting for her to say something. They didn’t need to react _immediately._ The date was a little under a hundred years away, after all. It would _wait_ ; could wait a hundred years, if Roda wanted it to. But she knew that she had to rip off the band aid, and get it over and done with.

She knew that Jack felt the shift in her mood before she said anything. He squeezed her shoulder and nodded at the newspaper, before putting his Captain’s hat on.

“So, what are we going to do about it?”

***

With slim, woad-stained fingertips, Roda dumped the rolled-up newspaper on the Master’s desk, smoothed it out smartly, and tapped the offending headline with an aggressive rap of her knuckles.

Leaning over to rest his chin on clasped hands with an obviously-faked yawn, the Master raised an eyebrow and read aloud from the print. Behind him, she could see the trophy from the newspaper, front and centre of an immodest display case.

“Master Hunter Traps Rare Red Bird… impressive,” he smirked, “wouldn’t you say?”

“Do you really have _nothing_ better to do?”

Snorting angrily, Roda reached around and flapped her coat out of the way, drawing the revolver holstered at the back of her belt and placing it squarely on the desk between herself and the Master. With one finger resting against the trigger, she cocked the revolver and set her jaw. The Master rolled his eyes, the smirk never leaving his face, his position never changing.

“You realise, of course,” he said, smoothly, “that curiousity didn’t _just_ kill the cat?”

Roda slammed her hand down on the sleek mahogany of the desk, making it - and her arm - shudder violently. Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep her voice steady as she cut to the chase.

“Why the hell are you bothering with me?”

“Redjay,” sighed the Master, “I ask myself that question at _least_ once a week…”

The relationship between the two Time Lords was almost intimate in its precise, calculated hatred. The Master knew exactly which buttons of Roda’s to press to the most valuable effect; had spent a year testing them all out, on the Valiant. Roda, for her part, had less experience (or inclination) to cause the man pain, but knew exactly how to wind him up when he didn’t rattle her chain first. _And, admittedly, that time I broke his nose was the highlight of a dismal year._ They’d had a millennium to practice getting under one another’s skin no matter how hard they tried to avoid each other, and so when one wanted the other’s attention… they knew how to get it.

Jack had tried to talk her out of going at all, and not just sending a hypercube, or something. In the end, he had agreed that the Master wanted to speak to her in person… but had also refused to let her go alone. Her TARDIS was parked around the corner, and Jack was only a signal away.

Roda would have been lying if she’d said she wasn’t grateful.

She took a long breath through her nose, and prodded the newspaper again.

“What do you want, _Harold_?”

Harold Saxon, the newspaper explained, was running for Prime Minister of the United Kingdom once again. A distant relation of the last Prime Minister, and an avid game hunter to boot, the candidate was winning votes with his disarming, familiar smile. And, Roda suspected, no small amount of cheating and mid control. His apparent illegitimacy also made for a tidy bit of gossip; something people never seemed to grow bored of. He was already a favourite to win, as his great great great something-or-other grandfather had been; most papers reported high odds, and high hopes.

Had she and the Seeker not _just_ discussed how no one held the Time Lords accountable for meddling, anymore, Roda would have just jumped straight in and messed with his campaign simply to get back at the Master. Instead, with the Seeker’s feelings in mind, she had made an appointment, and kept to it. It hadn’t been hard to find a phone number for the office, and she had had Jack make the call in the hopes he would be a little more diplomatic. Perhaps it meant the Master would know that she was coming, but she just wanted to talk. Get it over with. And leave. If they could sort… whatever this was out amicably, then the Seeker never needed to know.

“Oh, I just thought it would be _funny_ ,” explained the Master, interrupting her thoughts. “I _could_ have got your attention some other way, I’m sure, but making you squirm a little is _much_ more fun.”

“You’re a git,” sighed Roda, only a little despairingly. _I_ _’m starting to_ expect _that._

“Actually, I think it was rather nuanced,” countered the Master. He tipped his head back again, spreading his palms in front of his chest. “I considered burning down Nottingham.”

Roda’s fingers twitched on the trigger. “If you had _dared_ …”

“I wouldn’t shoot, if I were you. Your… _lover_ might not take it so kindly.”

“ _Master_ ,” growled Roda, warningly. Unfortunately, it had the opposite of the intended effect.

“Ooh,” he licked his lips, studying her intently. “Say my name again.” He sat up from his chair, leaning in until his face was only inches from hers. “It _never_ gets old.”

Roda wrinkled her nose. “Don’t test me.”

Both Time Lords held their ground with stubborn hatred and determination.

“Just one more time,” purred the Master. “I _dare_ you.”

“Don’t think I _won_ _’t_ shoot you.”

“Maybe I’d _like_ that,” grinned the Master. “Or so I’m told.”

More than a little thrown by the statement but not, exactly, wanting to know what the Master _meant_ by it, Roda shook her head. She loosened her hold on the trigger of the revolver all the same and straightened up, folding her arm across her chest and looking down at the Master where he was languidly sprawled on the table.

“Cut to the chase, Master. I’ve hardly had _any_ coffee this morning,” she stated, as casually as she could manage, “and I’m really not in the mood for this century.”

“How careless of me, should I have offered you tea?” The Master pushed himself to his feet smugly. “Coffee? Sparkling water?” He chuckled. “The thought did cross my mind, but I assumed you’d think it was poisoned.”

With an unimpressed huff, Roda didn’t deign to grace the Master’s comment with a response. She ran a hand through her hair, doing her best to get it out of her face before sinking into the leather chair in front of the desk that was evidently intended for visitors. _I_ did _make an appointment, why not make myself at home?_ Without bothering to dust the dirt from a few nights of hunting weevils off her boots - dirt, blood and things that _she_ didn’t care much to think about - she swung both legs over the high arm of the chair and planted her feet squarely in the middle of the table in one, final-for-now act of defiance.

The Master made a point of clearing his throat, nodding at her toes. Roda flexed her feet, raising an eyebrow to say ‘I dare you’ in return, and let her gun rest on her lap where she knew she could draw it before he could snatch it. Not content to let her get the upper hand the Master rolled his eyes and paced around the desk, stopping briefly at a tall water cooler to pour himself a glass before leaning on the back of the chair and grinning down at her.

Roda cracked her neck before lazily staring up at him, following his eyes with a smirk of her own.

“Please,” she smiled. “Don’t stand on my behalf.”

“ _Must_ you dirty my office any more than you already have?”

“I could move,” Roda shrugged. “But I’m comfortable here. I’d almost think you don’t know me at all.”

The Master sucked in a clearly irritated breath through his teeth. “Believe me, I know you better than you care to admit.”

“So you say,” sniffed Roda.

“I have been,” continued the Master, raising his voice to speak over her, “ _tersely_ informed that I should make an attempt to get to know you better.” He turned up his nose. “Interestingly enough for someone on such a high horse,” Roda rolled her neck, feigning boredom as she studied the fabricated credentials that adorned his wall with the air of someone who was certain they could do a far better job, “I have also been informed that you wish to skin me alive.”

Roda winced. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Hmm.” The Master began to drum his fingers on the back of his chair. Roda steeled herself for _needing_ to steel herself, but found with some surprise that it had been long enough since _that year_ that the steady beat no longer set her hearts racing in turn. But the Master seemed to be more contemplative than calculating, and before she could make another comment he spun away and stepped towards his office door. With a click he locked it without even a glance down the corridor, trapping them both inside with each other. Roda’s fist clenched around the fabric of her trousers for _just_ a moment before she managed to relax again - at first.

“Alexander seems to think I actually _enjoy_ your attention,” clarified the Master, sardonically. Roda froze in her seat, nose wrinkling at the implications. “I disagree.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Though I think,” he continued, “we know each other better than you think.”

Roda winced. “This I _have_ to hear.”

“Really!” The Master grinned, perching on the edge of his desk and pushing a small container of elegant pens to one side. “Let me guess: just a few minutes ago, you were thinking,” he tapped his thumb on his bottom lip as he coarsely mimicked Roda’s accent. “What a _coincidence_ , I don’t want to shoot you either. Why don’t we have a nice chat over arsenic?”

Roda’s grin-grimace was all teeth. “Aspirin.”

The Master laughed. “Wouldn’t think that would be _your_ first choice, considering.”

“I was always taught to share,” drawled Roda. The Master pouted, and dropped his head into one hand.

“Some people are so difficult to please.”

“Did you invite me over to dance around and tell me that you love me-”

“That’s an arrogant misunderstanding-” Both Time Lords spoke over one another.

“Or did you honestly just call me here to complain that your son asked you to play nicely?”

Roda crossed her ankles on the table - causing the Master to shuffle to the side or be kicked in the process - and fingered the revolver absentmindedly. _If only I could have brought my bow_ _… then again, I’m getting rusty._ She didn’t get much chance to use it, in the twenty-something centuries. Working for Torchwood, staying in largely one time and one place, having the odd lie-in and drinking coffees with long names… she was starting to get too used to it. All too soon, she’d forget the days of running for her live twice a week and breaking into secure vaults.

Still, they were both putting off talking with their usual ring around the topic. Raising her hand to get the Master’s attention, she started to try and get the conversation back on track.

“The Seeker.”

“What of him?”

“You said he’d spoken to you…?”

The Master sniffed. “He is _my_ son.”

“Look - what’s your game?” Roda snapped once again, getting a little impatient. “ _You_ called me here, _you_ organized this clandestine meeting - making me travel through time, _and_ come to London - _you_ wanted to talk. So talk. Or are you simply trying to waste mine _and_ Torchwood’s time?”

It was more words in a row than she’d wasted on the Master in quite some time. Roda was - bar for with a few people - a Time Lady of few words. She preferred to listen, and to make gestures of good - or bad - will. She wasn’t the sort to get off on a rant, but the Master… the Master terrified her. It was something she would never admit out loud, even to Jack, or to the Seeker. _Definitely_ not in front of the Master. When she closed her eyes at night, the noose he had dropped around her throat at Qualactin tightened once again. She remembered it from when she was a Time Tot, playing Eighth Man Bound. At least when he was trying to kill her, she knew where she stood. This… whatever it was. It was disorientating.

“It is a bonus.” Roda bared her teeth at the Master across the table, and he threw one hand in the air dramatically. “I suppose ‘entertainment’ isn’t the answer you want to hear, either? Let me get to the point, then.”

“ _Thank_ you.”

“First, let me remind me of your _place_.”

Roda pursed her lips, glancing at the ceiling. “At a forty degree angle, to the left of you…?” The Master choked on a splutter. “Or did you want the longitude and latitude? See, I’d have to go back to the TARDIS to get that, and I thought you wanted to-”

“Your place,” grumbled the Master, under his breath, “ _should_ be under my heel.”

“Kinky.”

“As I was _saying_ ,” snapped the Master, temper frayed, as he pointed to one corner of the room. Roda tracked his aim with her eyes, spotting a small black box in the corner of the room with a neat, winged A emblazoned on the side. “I should tell you that the Archangel Network has been… upgraded, shall we say, in the past two centuries.” Roda reluctantly slipped her gun back into its holster as the Master drew his laser screwdriver from his chest pocket and left it lined up beside the pens on his desk. _Getting the upper hand, once again._ She kept her feet on the desk as the Master smirked. “And I’m certain you met my guards on the way in here.”

“Bit handsy,” Roda commented, “aren’t they?”

“Can’t be too careful. But I believe with that in mind, you’ll find it’s in your best interested to listen to my terms like a good little Time Lady.”

“I’m not some _dog_ you can train.”

“Ah, but birds can be trained, too.” The Master gestured at the discarded newspaper under Roda’s legs. “Captured, trained and blinded. I’m _sure_ you remember.” She did. It had been a very long month and a half. “All it takes is the right Master.”

“Your _terms_ ,” prompted Roda, not rising to the bait. She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“You asked if my son came to speak with me.” The Master folded his hands in his lap. “He did. He’s growing up to be quite the little manipulator, just like his father.” Though the Master’s smile was predominantly proud, there was also a certain agitation in his eyes. Roda was briefly put in mind of how Rassilon had always looked down on her, and felt another flush of irritation. “Of course, we came to some agreement regarding your… general well-being.”

Roda pulled a face, torn between feeling insulted and touched at the same time.

“I can fight my _own_ battles.”

“Yes, that’s what I tried to tell him!” declared the Master, despairingly. “But he would not be swayed. Children," he winked, "you know how it is."

Roda narrowed her eyes. For a moment, she had _almost_ let her guard down. She slipped her legs off the table, and rested her chin in her hands, and her elbows on her thighs. “Right.”

So the Seeker was pulling strings on her behalf. _I_ _’m touched, then?_ Roda couldn’t quite put a finger on her thoughts. The part of her that trusted the Seeker and feared the Master was relieved that this office might, in fact, actually be a safe place to talk. The part of her that did _not_ trust the Master and had been along for so very, very long fought against the idea that she needed to be shielded from _anything_ with immature indignation. As though there was a fight she couldn’t win with her own wits, or run away from if the moment called for it. She’d survived a lot - _and been killed,_ she reminded herself, _six times_ \- but to have someone else, let alone another Time Lord, take pains for _her_ safety?

 _I don_ _’t know_ how _to feel about that_ _…_

“Actually,” she said, finally. “We _do_ have something in common.”

If the subject change surprised him, the Master gave no indication. “Oh really.”

Roda straightened up, running a hand through her hair again. “The Seeker.”

Surprised, or possibly angered, the Master’s playful expression slipped from his face to be replaced by something much, much more sinister. It was a face she hadn’t seen since Qualactin, and riding the high, Roda pushed herself to her feet and ran one hand across her throat with a thoughtful hum.

“How long has it been since…?” she gestured vaguely with one open palm.

The Master smirked, though the glower barely dimmed. “Why, are you offering, or just working your way through the family?” He shook his head, mock-sighing. “Just because you’re the last Time Lady doesn’t mean you should try all of us-”

“Since,” Roda grit her teeth, “the day you walked in on us. Rassilon’s _balls_ , Master. No port, in any storm.”

“I’m hurt.”

Roda gave him a warning look. “He came to me, alright? I wasn’t about to turn him away.” She massaged her temples. “I care about him, or is that so difficult for you to understand? Besides, if I’d left him to suffer you’d be calling me here to break my legs.” She paused, and took a deep breath, lowering her tone to a more neutral one and glancing at her feet. “I wouldn’t have done that, you know. Even to get back at you.”

The Master sniffed, his expression starting to tear. “Really. You’re just like the Doctor, Redjay. No care for the trouble your actions might cause. And besides.” He turned up his nose. “My son can take care of himself without _your_ help.”

“Oh, definitely.” Roda slowly grinned, unfolding her arms and beginning to pace. A leer found its way onto her face; she would have been ashamed at herself if she hadn’t just found the metaphorical high ground with her hated rival once more. “He can look after himself very well. And he can look after me.” Roda tapped her bottom lip. “And he _enjoyed_ my help.”

“What have I told you about your _place_?!” The Master snarled, jumping to his feet like he'd been electrocuted. Roda took a single step back, and raised her chin.

"To stay in it?" Roda's eyes sparkled. "But oh Master, where would be the fun in playing by _your_ rules?"

“Oh,” the Master stalked ever closer, finger held out accusingly. In his anger, though, he’d not picked up his screwdriver. His eyes narrowed with the promise of swift pain, given the chance. “You do _not_ want to push me any further, Redjay.”

“I’m sure I do.”

At that, a smile returned to the Master’s features; one that Roda really didn’t like. He reached out, cupping her cheek in his hand almost tenderly, his breath just grazing her ear. “Perhaps Alex was right about you and I.”

“Oh, _shut_ -”

“But if he really wants a whore, then I’ll just buy him another one.” Roda’s back stiffened at the insult as she batted his hand away. “I simply cannot fathom his affection for his current one.”

Before she could think to stop herself, Roda unfolded her arms to shove the Master - none too gently - in the chest. She swore (hardly paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth, and whether they were in Gallifreyan or English) and came at him like a bull in a china shop. The Master, caught off guard, stumbled away from her and barely managed to catch himself on the edge of his desk, staring at her with a mixture of surprise and… _ugh._ She shuddered. Excitement? Delight? What perverted mess had she stumbled into? What had she done that he _wanted_ her to do?

She kept on pushing forward until he was forced to either have her press entirely up against him, or slide back onto the table. He chose the latter as Roda grabbed him by the lapels, standing between his knees, making the point that if she so _chose_ , she could shove him again. His eyes boggled as he watched her, his expression too complicated to be readable, and Roda hissed at him with unrestrained loathing.

“We are ending this,” she growled. “Right here, right now.”

“If you value your health-” the Master begun to interrupt, but with an uncharacteristic wave of bravado Roda clamped one hand to his mouth, eyes warning.

“No. You _listen._ I’m not talking about you and me. I’m talking you, me and the Seeker.” Her expression darkened. “Do you know _why_ I answered your little call?” The Master rolled his eyes, pushing rudely into her surface thoughts to respond without having to shove her hand away from him.

« _To grovel and beg for forgiveness?_ »

“In your dreams,” she grumbled, warding him from her mind. “I came because the Seeker would have wanted me to. He wants us to talk. He understands this - us - far too well, you know. You and I. Why I hate you, but would go mad without all of…” She waved a hand, and the Master raised an eyebrow, but still did not respond. “You know one of us is going to have to tell him the story one day but right now,” her voice shook, “you and I are going to have to make do with snide comments and veiled threats to keep up occupied, and play happy families for a little while whether we fucking like it or not.” She removed her hand from his mouth, let go of his lapels, and thrust one palm in his face. “Agreed?”

The Master just stared, for a couple of minutes, and gradually Roda’s hearts slowed down to a gentle rhythm and the flush of adrenaline drained from her face. The Master made himself comfortable on the table once more and Roda stood up straight, raising her jaw stubbornly and placing one hand on the bulge of her pistol just in case the situation had just gone very pear-shaped very quickly because of her reckless mood.

It didn’t and slowly the Master brought his hands together in a slow applause.

“…very well.” Roda blinked. “You’ve earned an iota of my respect. Perhaps we can come to an accord. Name your terms, perhaps I will even stick to them.” Roda’s jaw nearly dropped, “And I will name mine,” he laughed, “As I planned to anyway.”

***

“Just like that?”

“Well. More or less like that.”

Roda sat across a small table in a small cafe, drinking some sort of twenty third century tea that smelled as though it had been imported from off-planet, and tried to get her heart down to a pace that wasn’t going to imminently cause a regeneration. Jack watched her with a curious expression on his face, evidently trying to read her body, her eyes. She hadn’t taken down the mental warding she’d thrown up back in the Master’s office, because it still didn’t quite seem real. The fact that they had talked, _barely_ fought, and had even come to something approaching… an arrangement.

> _“You,” the Master said, offering Roda a cup of tea that she poured immediately into a potted plant, “will stay out of the way of everything that leads to_ this _timeline._ _” Roda nodded, hesitantly. “I, in turn, will not touch Qualactin, Nottingham, Sherwood Forest or Torchwood’s operations in any way, shape or form.”_
> 
> _“To the_ letter _,_ _” she stressed, pacing the office agitatedly._
> 
> _“To the letter,” swore the Master, making a petty criss-cross gesture over both of his hearts. “And as the Seeker has so_ kindly _requested, I agree to no killing,_ serious _maiming-_ _”_
> 
> _“Maiming,_ period _,_ _” stressed Roda._
> 
> _“Not even a little?”_
> 
> _“No. Maiming.”_
> 
> _“Fine.”_
> 
> _“And no,” she jabbed a finger in the Master’s direction, “manipulating of the Seeker - by_ either _of us - to get to the other. Is that_ agreed _?_ _”_
> 
> _“We have an accord,” said the Master, sipping his tea. “Until such date as you and me son are done… fooling about.”_

“It’s a work in progress,” Roda continued, tiredly. “But we didn’t shoot each other, so you can tell the Seeker that, at least.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, but let the comment slide. _I_ _’d tell him myself,_ mused Roda. _But somehow, the whole situation seems_ _… dirty. Tainted. Wrong._ He drank his own tea - his was _definitely_ from off-world, considering it was a shade of purple Roda was certainly she’d never seen on Earth before - and looked her up and down for what felt like the sixth time, looking for any time injuries that might have come from their meeting. After all, Roda had to admit she’d gone in looking a lot less ruffled than she’d come out. Feeling less ruffled, too.

“And he’ll leave us _all_ alone.”

“He agreed,” shrugged Roda, making quotes with one hand. “’To the letter’. Mind you,” she sniffed, “I trust him about as far as I can throw him.”

“So not at all, then,” smirked Jack. Roda punched him lightly in the arm.

“Hey! But, yes.” She paused. “And stop looking at me like I’m going to fall apart. I haven’t got so much as a paper cut.”

Jack placed his empty mug down on the table and waggled his eyebrows at Roda. She stifled a laugh, leaning in as Jack made a beckoning gesture with one finger, until their noses were practically touching.

“Is there _another_ way you’d like me to look at you?”

Roda smirked, pulling back just enough to lift her mug and down the rest of her tea, before lightly placing the cup down and offering Jack her hand.

“Is that an offer, Captain?”

Jack chuckled, standing up and offering Roda his arm. Someone ambled over waving a debit machine in their direction, until Jack handed them a handful of notes Roda had given him before ducking into her meeting - just in case - with a flirtatious wink in their direction. She would have been jealous, were it anybody but Jack. “Keep the change.”

“But this is twice the-!”

“Pick yourself up something nice,” flirted Jack, blowing the young man a kiss. Roda rolled her eyes fondly, and began tugging Jack to the door as he called over his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll come back later! When do you finish?”

The man - Roda made a note that humans were still susceptible to Jack’s pheromones, come this century, blushed and mouthed ‘seven’ as the two ducked out of the door. Jack laughed to himself, sweeping his hair back off his face before reaching to grab Roda’s arse. She made a point of pretending to be offended, checking him with her hip as they began to amble back in the direction of the park where she’d left her TARDIS.

“Right,” said Jack, clearing his throat. “Where were we?”

“I _believe_ ,” said Roda, with a put-upon air of jealousy. Between thoughts of the Seeker and of Jack, thoughts that there were people who truly loved her, who didn’t need contracts and threats and stupid games to entertain themselves, swiftly washed away the last of her worry that the Master had something up his sleeve. For now, she would just live in the moment, with one eye over her shoulder just in case he decided to stab her in the back. _Just like always._ But right now, she cared more about her friends than her enemies. “You were going to tell me all the other ways that you could look at me.”

“Oh I was, was I?”

Jack let go of Roda’s arm just long enough to let her unlock the TARDIS and shoulder open the door, watching to make sure that no one saw her. The two ducked inside, laughing companionably, and Jack sank into the rotating chair at the TARDIS console as Roda noodled around with the coordinates to take them back home just after they’d left. Better to be careful and not leave the TARDIS defended by nothing but the pterodactyl and a possible escaped weevil in the catacombs. As the ship took off she stroked it’s dashboard fondly and smiled at Jack, making herself comfortable in his lap and closing her eyes. Jack held her around the waist with a chuckle, and she buried herself in the folds of his greatcoat as she sank into calm in the safety of her home.

“I really am spoiled for choice,” she laughed, reaching up to mess up Jack’s hair. She heard him laugh again, spinning the chair beneath them.

“Is that you telling me it’s a rain check, then?”

“Hmm,” she said, thoughtfully, affirmatively. “Think you can handle yourself for a bit?”

“I can always handle myself,” snickered Jack. “But yeah. You go off and play with lover boy,” Roda rolled her eyes, “I’ll man the Hub.”

Roda turned to kiss Jack on the forehead as the TARDIS ground to a halt in the Hub a minute or so later, watching the ex-Time Agent make a show of being overly disappointed as he walked away.

"Have fun tonight!"

"Oh," winked Jack. "I will."

With a fond smile Roda settled into her own captain’s chair and sighed, the stress of the morning almost completely forgotten. The Master was going to leave her alone. Jack was always there. And the Seeker was waiting. Life hadn’t been as nice for a long time…


	6. The Human Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Roda learns how humans celebrate anniversaries, and thinks it good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spend It With You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ptmy-5Psi9I) by Kodaline is recommended listening.

A relationship with someone who had been raised by humans, Roda soon discovered, was a very different kind of relationship to any she’d had in the past.

That wasn’t to say that it was a  _ bad  _ thing; it was just something that she wasn’t accustomed to. In many ways, the Seeker was someone that she had never had a chance to be. Somebody who had grown up with a community like nothing you got on Gallifrey. While Roda had found herself in adulthood, it had been by pulling away from what she knew. The Seeker, in turn, had drawn the pieces of everyone around him that he was interested in, and reshaped them until they fit. And it suited him, even if Roda would have preferred that some of those people around him had never crossed her path.  _ Though without them _ , she supposed,  _ there’d be no Seeker.  _

He had told her a little of his time spent travelling, Europe with his girlfriend, and about NASA. Back when they had just been student and teacher. The circus, a trip round the world in eighty days, university socials.  _ Not travel, but just as alien to me.  _ It wasn’t too different to what Roda had done after her exile either, except that the Seeker was a social sponge (at least in comparison). Roda had two or three people that she actually liked and a handful of others that she didn’t mind, and didn’t look for companionship further afield. And so - one year after the first day they had slept together - the Seeker turned up on her doorstep and suggested that they go somewhere for dinner, Roda had been… more than a little thrown.

“I - what?”

The Seeker had simply squeezed past her and into the TARDIS, kissing her on the cheek and walking over to the console. The TARDIS had been delighted to see him, revving the engine in greeting and lighting up all the various buttons and monitors to get his attention. As though he’d hardly heard her, the Seeker laughed and patted the dashboard.

“Nice to see you, too.”

“Sorry,” said Roda, running a hand through her hair and rolling her shirt sleeves up over her elbows. “Did you say  _ dinner _ ?”

“Yes,” replied the Seeker, raising an eyebrow at her. “It’s the meal between lunch and breakfast.”

“I know what dinner is,” Roda slapped him on the back of the head, leaning on the console as the monitor began scrolling through different locations.  _ Trust the old girl to start making decisions without me.  _ “But couldn’t we just eat  _ here _ ?”

“It’s called a date, Roda.”  _ How can he be so practical and so confusing at the same time?  _ “People go on them to celebrate anniversaries.” He paused, and then put a hand on his forehead. “Right. Scratch that. Did you celebrate anniversaries on Gallifrey?”

“Um,” was all Roda managed to say, dumbly. She blinked, tilting her head to one side. “I mean… not the same way that humans… evidently do.”

“Fascinating…” muttered the Seeker, mostly to himself. And then he turned to face her fully, taking her shoulders in her hands. “Then, Roda, let me cordially invite you to the human tradition of going to a restaurant and staring lovingly into one another’s eyes while talking about how it hardly feels like a year has gone by.”

“It doesn’t,” said Roda, laughing despite herself. “A year is nothing.”

“Then so is dinner. But I’d like to spend it with you.”

And how could she say no to an offer like that.  _ I’d like to spend it with you…  _ It was nice to be wanted. Nice to do nothing with someone who mattered. Which was how she’d found herself convinced into recommending places that she’d eaten before, and planets with interesting (non-toxic) diets.

They had shared the captain’s chair as Roda tried to think of something that matched the Seeker’s tastes. She remembered that he liked whiskey, and that someone had once told her steak went with whiskey? That whiskey he was fond of, the one in the black box, was smoky. So definitely steak, she decided, very unsure about what  _ really  _ went with what.  _ Seems reasonable, anyway. _ And there was a place she remembered meeting a contact at once, much more upscale than the kind of place she usually ate at, where they grilled it in front of you. Near Poosh...

“That’s where you want to go?”

Roda nodded. It had been a good place. Clean, safe. Her contact had been in politics, she remembered, a whistleblower of some sort, and the grill belonged to his uncle. Since it had been a few regenerations back, she was sure it would be fine to return to the same year, and hope that the food was just as good. And the Seeker would have a field trip with the sights and the smells and the unfamiliarity of it.

Yes. She smiled, starting to get excited not so much for the date but the look on his face. This was a good idea of his after all…

***

“What did you say this planet was called?”

“Pygmalion Seven.”

“Hmm. Like the sculptor. Was it settled by humans?”

Roda shook her head as she walked, trying not to chuckle. She should have known that the Seeker would have a hundred and one questions.  _ I  _ did  _ sort of choose this place to give him something new, after all.  _ But she hardly knew the answers to any of them. The whistleblower had been a Eukanian, but that didn’t mean there  _ weren’t  _ humans on the planet. It was the sixty-second century by Sol-3 years; they’d had interstellar travel more than long enough that they may have colonized the planet, for all that Roda knew.  _ Maybe we can find a tourist guide while we’re here,  _ she thought, wondering what the Doctor said when his companions had so many questions.  _ Probably makes it all up. _

“It’s brilliant regardless,” decided the Seeker, studying everything from the architecture to the species they passed, committing it all to memory. “And if it wasn’t, it’s a remarkable coincidence!” He ran his finger down the wall of a nearby building with a look of wonder. “How did they get so much ivory they could create whole  _ buildings  _ out of it?”

“Oh!” Grasping onto the question, Roda grinned. “That one I  _ can  _ answer. Celestial whalefall.”

“Whalefall?” The Seeker’s eyes widened in surprise.

“They migrate through the system. When they die, the remains sometimes fall into orbit around the planets, and they’re harvested for resources.” She glanced up at the sky. “I think there’s a festival honouring them…”

It didn’t take her too long to find the restaurant again. Or rather, it wouldn’t have if they hadn’t stopped several times for the Seeker to ask questions, and one time to fend off a particularly insistent woman peddling holy texts from her religion. (The Seeker had made the mistake of taking one of her fliers, despite Roda’s attempts to hurry him on before the woman could get talking to them. It had taken twice as long to convince her they weren’t buying anything.) She hesitated outside, double-checking the name and the street by memory until she was as certain as she was going to be that it was the right place.

The Seeker held the door open for her and they ducked in, only to be immediately greeted by a familiar, purple face.

“Welcome to Talos’-!”

“ _ Definitely _ humans,” mumbled the Seeker, more to himself. Roda nudged him in the side with her elbow, but the Eukanian didn’t even seem to notice them.

“A table for two?”

“Uh, please,” said Roda, smiling awkwardly. “Thanks.”

The Eukanian - Talos, her informant’s uncle and the owner of the restaurant - was the kind of man who had cheer in buckets. He liked to greet everyone who arrived at his grill, which Roda had initially forgotten; it was all coming back to her now. A broad and tall man, he had lilac skin and large, blue eyes that seemed to be all sclera. Mandibles twitched with excitement as he led them to a table, and the horns on his temples were short and rounded.

They were a passive species, Eukanians. Often travellers; she’d seen them around the Temple of Akhaten, once, passing through. Anticipating questions, she narrated what she could remember to the Seeker telepathically, somehow managing to at least go ‘uh huh’ and ‘yes’ when Talos made small talk as he offered them a jug of water and small mugs of what almost passed for tea, before leaving them alone with the menu.

Roda turned the single sheet over, chuckling. The menu was mostly drinks, and sides, meant to compliment the steak. It was, she recalled, the main reason people came. That you wanted the steak went without saying, and sometimes you had something to go with it. Not really caring what they ate she let the Seeker pore over the menu like it was an ancient text he’d searched all his life for, and smiled. She liked seeing him so excited. And nothing and nobody had tried to kill them. Maybe a date wasn’t so bad, after all.

She sighed fondly and the Seeker looked up. He smirked at the look on her face, all charm as he spoke.

“Roda, it hardly feels like a year’s gone by since we started snogging.” She had to stifle a laugh at the level of sincerity and how he miraculously managed to keep a straight face. “Can you believe it?”

“Well,” she commented calmly. “You  _ did  _ point it out on the way here.”

“Shut up and let me stare into your eyes, lover.”

“ _ Seek _ er!” Roda covered her face with her hands, shoulders heaving with silent laughter. She had turned her chair to face him, as they sat side by side at a small table, with a grill labelled WARNING! HOT! taking up the other side. “Stop winding me up.”

“And would you kindly,” continued the Seeker, without changing his tone of voice, “explain what a Kalaxian Pepperfruit is?”

She almost lost it there and then, but managed to hold it together as Talos returned and took their order. Roda  _ did  _ recommend the pepperfruit, and the Seeker wanted to try what Roda had told him she  _ thought  _ passed for rice on Pygmalion Seven. She ordered two glasses of what was almost but not quite whiskey and smiled politely at Talos’ jokes about young love, eager - and surprised to be - to get back to talking.

It was a nice change of pace from, well, most of her life. Slow, easy, danger free. The Seeker’s eyes sparkled as he talked, and Roda could hear music in the background, and slowly, she let down her hackles.  _ We’re safe. You chose here on purpose.  _ Without waiting for something to go wrong, she really began to enjoy herself.

They talked about the food, the projects they were working on, their mutual friends. The Seeker had begun working out the schematics for his Matrix, and Roda had been tweaking her TARDIS again; dismantling war ‘upgrades’ such as a tracker that she no longer needed. When the first course arrived Roda explained how to deseed the Pepperfruit (purple, spicy, sweet and savoury all at once) and they tried each other’s food, the conversation barely halting. By the time that they were halfway through that course, their chef had arrived to start cooking the steaks at their table and Roda hardly even noticed.  _ Is this what a date is like, when you just let yourself go? _ She rested her chin in one hand and watched the Seeker ask the chef about every stage of the grilling like he was writing a paper on it. 

When it was about to get to the best bit she put her hand on his arm, quietly pressing a finger to his lips. Visibly relieved, the chef threw himself into the now silent cooking as Roda indicated that the Seeker should watch.

“This. This is what I wanted you to see.”

The two steaks that had been brought out and were sizzling away on the grill were relatively unassuming, if good-looking, slabs of meat. Raw, they were a vivid shade of cerulean blue. Catching the light, there were little hints of purple and indigo, and the Seeker looked at them utterly transfixed. Roda smiled, leaning against him as she waited for what she knew was coming. The chef flipped them with an entertaining flourish, searing flames engulfing the steak with a perfectly charcoal-like scent. Smoke billowed around them and they could hardly hear themselves think over the sizzle of oil and juices fighting one another for the grill. As the heat died down and they could see the meat again, Roda risked a look at the Seeker out of the corner of her eye.

She beamed as his jaw dropped, chuckling with amusement. When cooked, the meat took on a whole new beauty. The flecks of indigo they had seen before were now the colour of the steak, dusted with sooty black like a blanket of backwards stars. It was translucent, reflecting the light of the bulb hanging over their head, and Roda couldn’t help but lick her lips. The chef broke them out of their wonder just long enough to ask how they liked their meat done. Roda remembered liking hers well done before, which was what her informant had ordered for her. The Seeker liked his rare; which somehow, didn’t surprise her. With a satisfied nod to both of them the chef began seasoning the steak and pressing it against the grill, testing the colour of the juices that ran out. When he was done he slid each onto a stone plate and handed them - still cooking - to the two Time Lords.

“Enjoy your meal.”

“Oh,” said the Seeker, charming and reverent. “I’m sure that I will.”

Shaking his head and muttering something under his breath the chef collected his equipment up and left them alone again. Roda shook a steak knife out of the roll of cutlery by her plate, looking at the Seeker expectantly.

“What do you think?”

“If it tastes  _ half  _ as good as it looks, I think I’ll let you keep on choosing where we eat!” He sliced into the meat, inspecting the middle with interest. “What animal is it, anyway?”

“Whale. They don’t waste anything,” she said as she took a bite, chewing contentedly.  _ Oh good. Still like the taste in this body. _ “It’s a sign of disrespect.”

“Do they farm them?”

She shook her just. “Just the falls. It’s not exactly a delicacy, but it’s delicious, and only available every hundred years or so. That’s why it was, uh, expected we’d order it.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” said the Seeker, evidently enjoying the meal, “but when you said one of your contacts recommended this place I didn’t expect somewhere so…”

“Fancy?” The Seeker nodded. “It’s not where I usually eat. Street meat and cooking for myself is more my style. But I thought you would like it here.”

“Oh believe me, I do.”

“And…” Roda lowered her voice slightly. “Well, my informant wasn’t exactly the sort to pick a wretched hive of scum and villainy.” A beat. “Politician’s son.”

The Seeker stared -  _ did he not expect me to make a reference like that? I remember his Millenium Falcon  _ \- and then laughed. “The universe’s Robin Hood, rubbing elbows with the enemy.”

“Oh hush,” she murmured, drinking her whiskey. “It’s not like that and you know it.” She squeezed his knee. “Sometimes they’re useful.”

“I’m useful, am I?”

“Of course.” She smirked. “But that’s not what I want you for…”

“Is that so?”

Roda winked, and returned to her meal. “Pygmalion whalefall steak,” she explained, casually, “is  _ apparently _ an aphrodisiac.”

***

A dinner date, Roda decided, wasn’t the worst thing ever. Though they could stand to be shorter. Stretching out on the couch she reached for her cup of coffee, legs in the Seeker’s lap, and sighed contentedly.

“That was nice. Let’s not make a habit of it.”

The Seeker laughed pleasantly, browsing a book on Gallifreyan philosophy that he’d found in her library.

“If anyone but you had said that, Roda, I’d assume it was sarcasm…”

It was nice knowing that she hadn’t offended him; in fact, it had been his idea to head out when they did. She only had so much patience for other people, and pleasant though the date had been, she’d been reaching that limit by the time that Talos had tried to sell them on dessert. Thankfully, the Seeker could read her moods well enough to know when to do most of the talking for her. It hadn’t taken him long to wrap up the bill and somehow impress Talos into giving them a discount in the process. Even better, though Roda had made a weak attempt at suggesting they go for a walk, he’d insisted they head back to her TARDIS. 

Thank Rassilon for being understood.

“Seriously, though.” Roda smiled fondly. “It really  _ was  _ nice. I’ve not really been on a date since…” she glanced at the ceiling, and then snorted in surprise. “Well, it’s been a while.”

_ Perigraphaltas.  _ Roda hadn’t thought of him in years. Her first love, her childhood best friend and the only other person who had ever really convinced her to go on dates. Then again, she hadn’t really had  _ time  _ for them since she’d graduated from the Academy. She’d been with plenty of people, of course, but her last and only actual ‘relationship’ between Peri and the Seeker had been Wick. Fighting in the Last Great Time War hadn’t exactly left opportunities to nip out to Pygmalion Seven for a steak.

It was strange, really, the ways that the Seeker changed her. Grounded her.  _ And to think I could have turned him away a year ago just because of who his father was.  _ They were fundamentally different people and yet it was hard to imagine life without him. He and Jack had become staples in her life in what felt like such a short time, and now she couldn’t have let them go for all the treasures in the universe. The Seeker was kind, patient, interesting and funny. Not to mention an attentive lover. Sometimes he made her feel like she was freshly graduated again, with hope for the future and all that it could bring.  _ Though I still don’t get why he wants  _ me.  _ He could have anyone, and yet he chose a tired, broken exile. _

Tonight, though, was not an evening for doubt. Roda was more than content to just be in the moment and be near him. She had invited him to stay (the night, or as long as he liked) and didn’t feel much like moving from the chair they were sprawled in. It was peaceful. The lights were dim - the Seeker had found a lamp to read by - and they were just hanging in the vortex, idling and going nowhere in particular.  _ Expected  _ nowhere in particular. Half dressed from making the most of the steak when they’d first made it back to her TARDIS they were just… entangled. Skin to skin, heart beats on heart beats. 

“You didn’t agree just for me, did you?”

The Seeker’s question came as a surprise. Roda paused, thinking it through, and then shrugged. 

“A little?” He chuckled at her honesty. “But I’m glad I did. I’d probably just be under the console covered in oil right now if you hadn’t come knocking.”

“ _ You _ gave up tinkering on your TARDIS for  _ me _ ?” asked the Seeker, in mock amazement. “I’m flabbergasted.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He put a hand on his hearts. “I couldn’t dare come between the two of you.”

“You came between plenty of-!”

“Sometimes, Roda,” choked the Seeker, smacking her with his book, “you are worse than Jack!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“For goodness sake…”

Conversation slowly gave way to companionable silence. Roda finished her coffee, and the Seeker was well and truly engrossed in his book. Roda had disappeared off just once to find something of her own - an old Sol-3 classic she’d been fond of, as a Tot - and they’d just… sat there, for ages. Reading, occasionally making some comment or other about the page they were in, and from time to time lacing their fingers through the other’s like a pair of newlyweds.  _ And a year isn’t really all that long,  _ thought Roda (grateful for the hundredth time that of all the escapes she’d had to make in her life, none of them had been by barrel down a river),  _ not for a Time Lord. But for a human? For  _ us _ , given the circumstances?  _ She was eternally grateful that he had come to her, and that he had stayed. In ways she couldn’t even explain.

Roda lost track of time, in so much as a Time Lord  _ could.  _ It was definitely past the ‘day’ of their anniversary, but she wasn’t tired, and neither it seemed was the Seeker. She supposed at some point they should move and eat or drink something, but that would involve  _ moving _ . And she was quite comfortable where she was. Comfortable enough, she decided, putting the book face-down on her knee in lieu of a bookmark, that she could just close her eyes for a little bit and enjoy the hum of the TARDIS, the touch of a lover.

“Roda?” The Seeker’s voice was quiet, probing. Making sure that she was awake. Roda opened one eye, smiling fondly at him.

“Hmm?”

“Thought you’d fallen asleep on me.” He paused. “Literally.”

“No…” she turned in her seat, taking her legs off his lap so that she could rest her shoulder against his, and press a soft kiss to the side of his neck. Her book slipped to the floor, page lost, but she ignored it and rested her chin on his shoulder, sighing happily. “Just enjoying the moment.” A rustle of pages signalled the Seeker putting down his own reading material, tilting his neck to offer her a more cozy place to snuggle in. Roda took the cue and closed her eyes again, just… holding onto him. “Happy anniversary, Seeker.”

The Seeker stroked the back of her hair and cozied in as well.

“Happy anniversary, Roda. And many more…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A Friend of Pygmalion Seven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713218/chapters/68118262) is a missing scene that takes place shortly before Roda and the Seeker return to Roda's TARDIS.


	7. Every Time A Bell Rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roda learns the meaning of Christmas.

It was snowing.

Roda stopped in surprise in the doorway of her TARDIS, looking out at the Seeker's courtyard. The invitation had been official - date and time carefully stipulated - if oddly whimsical and mysterious, and she looked around at the scene in astonishment. What on earth did he have planned? The sky was dark, and filled with gently falling flakes that had already settled in a perfectly smooth white blanket on the ground. 

The only illumination came from strings of tiny lights, hung above the main doors and along the curving walls. It was very beautiful, although Roda couldn't help but wonder at the purpose.

The next second the large doors swung open and the Seeker appeared, dressed in a festive green jacket, and smiling widely.

"Roda! Come in, come in, you'll catch your death standing there in the cold."

Daintily making her way across the snow-covered cobblestones she looked at her young lover's beaming face without bothering to hide her confusion.

"What is this?" she asked, but he only smiled wider and brought out a red silk scarf.

"A surprise," he said solemnly. "And I need you to wear this - just for a little while."

A beat, as she eyed the scarf in his hand and tried not to back away. She wasn't good with... restraints. A blindfold was a simple enough thing, and yet-

"Do you trust me?" he asked, voice suddenly serious. "The blindfold isn't necessary really - but your trust is."

Roda knew a symbolic gesture when she saw one, and - momentarily dwelling on her latest, unsettling meeting with the Master, as well as... other recent developments - eventually nodded acquiescence. The Seeker responded with a swift kiss, before tying the scarf around her head. 

"Don't worry, you're going to love it," he murmured, and she smiled, doing her best not to let her nervousness show. Taking her hand he led her through the house, as she tried to orient herself with her other senses. Something was definitely _different_... After a moment she decided that it was the smell. New and unusual smells, strange but very pleasant, and she almost forgot her discomfort as her puzzlement grew.

Eventually they stopped, and she heard a door open, which made the smells intensify, and now she could also hear music. Once through, gentle hands undid the scarf, and - as the Seeker pulled it off with a flourish - he announced:

"Roda. I give you - _Christmas."_

Her eyes widened in pure wonder at what she saw. They were in the main room of his house, but she could barely recognise it.

It was dominated by a large green tree - an Earth tree, one of those with needles that stayed green all year round - although it was covered in colourful ornaments: Something winding and sparkly that she couldn't identify (but that was undeniably pretty), and countless little oddments - shiny round spheres every colour of the rainbow, birds, angels, miniature figures dressed in red, stars, hearts, tiny bells, little upside-down cones hanging from straps... And candles. Hundreds of candles, seemingly one on every branch, bathing the whole room in a warm, flickering glow. 

Slowly she took in the rest of the room, marvelling. It seemed that every surface was covered in decorations, with more of those little lights she’d seen outside strung out across the walls. There were also branches of the evergreen on every surface as well as branches of holly, shiny and spiky, red berries glowing in the light from the candles.

In the fireplace a large fire was merrily blazing, and - mysteriously - on each side a large sock was hanging, one with 'Seeker' embroidered on the top, the other saying 'Roda'. In the middle of the room was a table, decked out with a feast that was surely meant for more than two, even though she could only see two places set. The music was still playing - rich, warm and soft - and had to be coming from some sort of sound-system, as he couldn't have hidden an entire orchestra anywhere. (Although she wouldn’t put it past him.)

"Christmas?" she finally echoed, and he nodded and took her arm.

"Come, sit down and let's have some food. I hope you're hungry? I'm pretty sure I included that in the invitation..."

"You did," she said, continually distracted by the surroundings. 

As they began eating he began expounding (he rather loved talking, but then considering the people who’d brought him up that wasn’t surprising). 

She knew of Christmas already, vaguely - a human tradition tied in with the winter solstice and religion, but the items and symbols all around her were unknown. 

"You've told me so much about Gallifrey, about... all the things I never knew. This is a small way of giving something back? Because this is my childhood, my youth. One of the magical parts of it, one of the things that makes the Doctor love humanity so much. One of the things I wouldn’t be without, ever. And one of those things that can’t be explained, it has to be experienced."

"In that case-" she shifted the paper crown a little as it had slipped into her eyes (it had come out of something called a cracker, along with a small plastic toy and a joke she didn't understand), "-why didn't you invite the Doctor too?"

The Seeker stared at her, a forkful of food halfway to his mouth.

"Oh no no no. The Doctor has _terrible_ Christmases. I think he _attracts_ danger. And I wouldn't want a Cyberarmy marching through my nice living room. Torchwood isn't much better, which is why I didn't invite Jack either. And well... there are other reasons too, of course."

He lifted an eyebrow, and she smiled. The atmosphere was beginning to soak into her (or maybe that was just the wine) - a wonderful feeling of warmth and safety and comfort. And the promise of good things still to come.

The meal seemed to go on forever, but once finished Roda was glad to discover that they weren't going further than the sofa, where the Seeker pressed a button to reveal the built-in screen by the fireplace. 

"I've tried to explain what Christmas is, and the decorations help, but really, this will do it better." Letting his arm slide around her shoulders, he gently kissed her cheek.

"You see - Christmas isn't a party or a commemoration or trees or decorations... It's a miracle."

Too sated from food and drink she didn't respond to this latest declaration, although she was mildly puzzled by the words. Instead she just leaned back to enjoy whatever was coming - human Christmas entertainment would surely be as pleasant as everything else on offer this evening.

She certainly hadn't expected to cry...

It was 'It's A Wonderful Life' that did it. They'd already watched a handful of ‘cartoons’ - one about a mouse and a cat, one featuring some children with oddly shaped heads called ‘Peanuts’, and one with the Simpsons (the funny yellow people Jack had already introduced her to) - and also a marvellous tale about a grouchy old man called Scrooge who was haunted by the Ghosts of Christmas (human tales were surprisingly rich - she couldn’t say she understood it all, but the entertainment factor was certainly high, especially the way half the cast was apparently made of living fabric); but watching the tale of a man standing up to the system, holding onto goodness and righteousness in spite of everything, yet almost despairing as he couldn't see the true impact of his actions and being helped by an unassuming angel... By the end she was a mess, the only thing keeping her upright being the Seeker's arms. Everything she had always believed, affirmed in ways she had never imagined.

"You see?" he whispered, as the credits scrolled past on the screen, and she nodded. 

"Thank you," she finally managed, and he kissed her again, wiping away the tears. 

"Told you it was a miracle..." 

He hesitated, clearly unsure how much to pry, and then obviously decided to leave her be. 

"And now, there's 'The Great Escape' and then Morecambe and Wise. And Wallace and Gromit. And then-"

"Seeker," she said, shaking her head, too touched for words, yet amused. "I will pass out soon."

"That's the idea," he laughed, and she stared: "I can't decide whether this is more wonderful or bizarre. Is there logic to any of it?"

He shook his head.

"None whatsoever, Roda. That's the beauty of it - it's a patchwork quilt of odd traditions, and all you have to do is wrap it around you. Falling asleep is perfectly acceptable."

She eventually dozed off as the two men called Eric and Ernie were doing the strangest dance she had ever seen with a very tall woman whose name had ‘Red’ in it somewhere.

~~~

The next morning she woke on the rug, the Seeker asleep next to her. This was a common occurrence, as - despite the fact that his bed was perfectly large and comfortable - falling asleep in front of the fire was easier still. She didn't remember undressing, but her clothes were neatly folded on the sofa behind them, next to his. Looking around she realised that he'd done more than just tidy her clothes - he'd also cleared away the remainders of the food and all the dirty dishes. Although the droids had probably helped. Still, he had to be exhausted, so she tried to get up as silently as possible when his eyes snapped open.

"Merry Christmas!" he said, and she put a hand on his arm.

"Just sleep dearest," she said, but he shook his head. "Not a chance. It's present time!"

Sitting up he with a sweep of his hand indicated the fire place, and in the dim morning light she - when focussing - noticed that the stockings she'd seen last night were now bulky and lumpy.

"Go on," he urged, and she retrieved the loot, with mounting excitement pulling out a whole host of presents. Gold tipped arrow heads ("In case of Cybermen" he said, rather superfluously), a necklace with her name inscribed in Gallifreyan and several other thoughtful trinkets and oddments, until she neared the bottom of the sock and pulled out a sphere that made her gasp in surprise. 

It was see-through and faintly glowing and covered in circular markings, and within it there was yet another sphere and another within that... the little globes were all slowly turning, creating endless, ever-changing patterns, and she watched it in silence for a long moment, mesmerised. She had not seen its like since before her exile. Slowly she turned to the Seeker, realising that he had gone completely still, watching her with bright eyes.

"What does it unlock?" she asked. A key like this... What could it possibly protect? And why was he giving it to her?

He didn't answer her question, instead tilting his head.

"You've been to see my father," he said, and she nodded, suddenly on edge again. He bit his lip.

"As I am sure he made you aware, I... spoke to him, trying my best to lessen the impact of... _us_. It should last for a while, but-"

He sighed, looking far older than his scant 200 years. "When all is said and done, he is insane. And nothing can really hold him back. So-" 

Eyes fastening on her face, he studied her carefully.

"Am I right in thinking that you don't really have a home, apart from your TARDIS? I know you're presently at Torchwood, but I can't imagine that you'll buy a little house and settle down to 21st Century life any more than the Doctor."

"That's correct..." she said cautiously, unsure where he was going with this, and he nodded.

"You see, I've been thinking. About the future. About us. Because as we both know, you and I-" he followed the line of her lips, as he watched her with quiet sadness and resignation, "-you and I won't last. Apart from anything else, we'd drive each other insane in the long run. Now... as I'm sure you know, my house is as good as Jack's other home, right down to him leaving wet towels on the floor. Except it's not that simple when it comes to you and me, and I don’t want you to feel... _obliged_ towards me in any way. So this is what I came up with."

He plucked the glowing globe out of her hands and held it up.

"This is a key to the planet. I generally keep things fairly open - apart from the standard intruder warnings - but it can be locked should need arise. The only other person I have ever made a key for is Jack, as he is the only person I trusted completely - until you." 

His eyes shifted back to her face. "It's a large planet and I only use a fraction. I want you to consider it as your own. Come and go as you please. Build a house, hunt the game, disappear into a forest - stay as long as you like, no need to ever let me know what you're doing, and _no one_ will be able to find you. You lost a home once, so this is my gift to you, should you ever want it: A safe place to call your own."

Roda could only stare at him in silence, hearts beating as the words refused to make sense. This didn't happen. She was barely aware of his touch as he cupped her cheek. She felt like she had wings - she certainly wasn’t touching the floor any longer.

"The only thing is that I need to do is make the key inherent to you, as I'm sure you know. I tied Jack's key to his immortality, but yours..." A soft smile, and his hand moved to her arm, gently touching her brand. "If you don't mind, then this would be far the best place for hiding it. Thought you might appreciate the irony..."

But she wasn't listening anymore.

A home. He was giving her a home. The thought was too big, too unwieldy to fit. Then her eyes caught a bell, hanging off a red ribbon, part of one of the decorations on the mantle piece, and the previous night came back to her all in a rush - all the stories, all the things he had told her. _(Trust me/It's a miracle/Every time a bell rings/God bless us everyone)_ Love. Family. Friendship. Home. Often far from the home of childhood and real family, but created through kindness and friendship and generosity and the story of a baby born thousands of years before and fat man in red who brought presents and whatever other countless human impulses and stories met up in the moment when the skies were darkest and the hearts warmest.

After last night she understood the meaning of the term 'Christmas Miracle' - and now she had one of her own. 

Clever boy. Clever, clever, beautiful boy. A miracle in himself, she was sure of it.

Finally able to move, she took the globe and carefully placed it on the sofa where it would hopefully be safe. She wasn’t exactly sure what was going to happen next, except the feelings building inside her were too strong for mere words.

~~~

_(Mind to mind, touch to touch, skin to skin, luminous passion to luminous passion; a joy that couldn't be contained:_

_'Merry Christmas, Lover'.)_


	8. Goodbye, Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How it ends. Set after "A Good Day (Or: The War in the Medusa Cascade)".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"By elimination, dishonesty is the second best policy.”_   
>  **― George Carlin**

To say that Rodageitmososa had taken the Seeker’s behaviour in the Medusa Cascade ‘badly’ was a gross understatement. It would have been more accurate to say that she’d taken it with all the grace of a tired Time Tot; emphasis on the ‘tired’. As though waking up to another Dalek invasion on yet another planet hadn’t made for a bad enough day she’d been captured, betrayed by her lover and humiliated in front of a centuries-old rival.

Looking back on it now that a couple of weeks had passed she was certain she hadn’t come out of it smelling of roses either, but the very idea that the Seeker had been the one in the right was a suggestion Roda found impossible to swallow. _Still like his father. Despite everything, after everything we_ _’ve been through, you can still see his father in him._ And so when someone had begun frantically knocking on her TARDIS door, there’d been very few people she wanted to see less than the architect of the fall.

“…Seeker?”

She knew, immediately, that something was wrong. Even if they hadn’t spoken for weeks (at her end; it could have been even longer, for him) Roda could still read him like a book. _A book,_ she thought sadly, _that has a few pages missing, these days._ Against her better judgement - or by instincts too ingrained to break - she reached out to steady him or to check him over for injuries; not sure, exactly, why _this_ regeneration of his would come to her after everything that he’d done. He leaned into her touch like it was the most natural thing, and Roda couldn't stop her breath from catching. Once upon a time, not that long ago, it would have been that for _her_ , too.

“What happened?” she asked, using concern to cover her unease. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” the Time Lord’s expression was blank, almost empty. “I’m not hurt.” Roda’s brow knitted into a frown of confusion. “Not anymore.”

“Then what…”

As realisation dawned on her, Roda took a step back, studying the Seeker with new eyes. She looked him up and down, finally having the time to commit this new body of his to memory. _I guess our timelines have caught up at last._ Now that she looked at him, she could tell how recently he must have regenerated. He didn’t have that vivid purple coat of his; the beautiful one, like a mark of office, a second suit. Not the black one, either; from that day, thank Rassilon. _I only had to see it once,_ she thought, sadly, _for it to be forever tarnished in my mind._ Despite his tendency to always be meticulously dressed and preened (in previous reincarnations, at least, and since the Medusa Cascade) his hair was disheveled and his clothes even ill-fitting. It was so unlike him that if she hadn’t known the face, she might have wondered who was knocking on her door. But she’d recognize the feeling of him anywhere, no matter what.

“You regenerated.”

“Well.” The Seeker blinked, clearly thrown by the statement. “ _Obviously_.”

“No, I mean…” Roda ran a nervous hand through her hair as she absentmindedly shuffled him into her TARDIS, shutting the door tight behind him. _It_ _’s not happened, yet. Not for him._ “You - you _just_ regenerated.”

There was no humour in his voice but the Seeker still laughed, his voice breaking as he spoke. “That’s… that’s _kind of_ why I’m here, Roda.” Clearly oblivious to her discomfort he sank into the Captain’s chair beside her console, his messy black hair falling around his hands as he dropped his head into them. It was a stark contrast to the lively red hair he’d had when he’d still been hers, that she had loved so much, and she tried not to look as though she wasn’t trying not to look at him. “Roda I… I screwed up. _Really_ screwed up.”

Roda leaned against the door of the TARDIS - a little further from him than she would have stood for a _long_ long time - and let him talk. For everything that they’d had, everything that they had been, she felt as though she owed him that much. Angry and hurt by what he had done - what he _will_ do - as she was… the idea that she would turn him away when he was clearly hurting so much was alien to her. _How strange it is that their relationship would come right back around to where it had started._ But this time there was no leap of faith to take. It was much more complicated. As the Seeker explained how he had regenerated all she could picture was the scene in the Medusa Cascade.

It was the small things. Not the new face, or the old clothes, or even something that she would have thought about, if somebody who had asked her. It was little tics and habits that made him _not hers_. Small hand gestures, or mannerisms in his speech that he hadn’t used before. Things that he seemed to still be coming into - they overlapped with more familiar movements - but that would be commonplace by the time they met ‘next’. Or his next, anyway. Roda had hardly seen him since that day; had been avoiding the difficult topics. Even when he’d come to her, asking for help with building his own TARDIS, her own love and excitement at young coral and the chance to watch a TARDIS grow anew, after Gallifrey’s destruction, hadn’t been enough for her to turn her mind off. And still, he’d said nothing. Thrown himself into the project and spared her the pain that she couldn’t bring herself to spare him, yet.

 _How long will it be for him? Days? Months? Years? How long until he knows how_ terrible _an idea it is to come here, to me?_

“Roda?”

She hadn’t realised he was trying to get her attention; with a stab of guilt, she realised she hadn’t been listening - at all. _Something to do with the Matrix he_ _’d been building?_ Her hearts stalled for a moment. Had it blown up? Electrocuted him? (She realised that despite her unease, she didn’t want to think too much about the image of him mortally wounded and alone.) She’d always had mixed feelings about his project, but deep down, she’d always hoped that he’d succeed. That she’d be a part of something like the Matrix again; one of the keenest losses of her exile. It wasn’t just a tragedy for _him_ that it had been the thing to end his life.

Crossing the room she sat down on a bare portion of the console, crossing her arms over her chest in a mirror image of the way Jack would do, when he was thinking. A part of her wanted to reach out and put her hand on his arm, but she felt oddly _detached_ from the idea. The Seeker looked up at her with confusion in his eyes, expectation, and she opened her mouth to apologise; she would ask him to repeat himself, and pay attention this time. But before she could get the words out, he lurched forward and kissed her hungrily.

As Roda flinched her hands came up to his sides, and she didn’t know what to do with them. _This is where I would have held him,_ she noted, _wrapped myself around him and told him everything was okay, now._ But she couldn’t bring herself to do anything. His kiss was so needy and desperate, and she flashed back to that day that they’d kissed for the first time, but all she could feel was anger. Horrible, _selfish_ anger. How dare he turn up and expect comfort after what he’d done? And not just to her, but to Jack, and the Doctor… even to his father? It had been one of the worst days of her life since the Time War and he’d cut them all out. While she could understand why he had done what he’d done, she couldn’t wrap her head around why he’d done it to _them._

Jack had sought her out, later on, once he’d given her a little time to break things. He’d sent her coordinates for where he was, and she’d picked him up in her TARDIS and driven them to the middle of nowhere and… well, she had listened. To her, the idea of losing the Seeker and Jack in the same day was a horror not even worth contemplating. But she couldn’t forgive the Seeker. Not yet. One day, she knew, the ache would fade. But not yet.

“No…” She said, quietly, putting her hand on the Seeker’s chest and pushing him away. Straightening up she shook her head, but she couldn’t return the kiss. Couldn’t just turn her mind off. There was too much going through her mind, too much pain and anger and guilt. The Seeker’s mouth stayed open for a second longer, as though his mind hadn’t quite caught up with what had happened. The look that he eventually gave her made both of Roda’s hearts break again. “I’m sorry, I… can’t.”

Ever the logistician, Roda could see the gears working in the Master’s son’s head. Trying to work out what step had gone wrong, where the time-honoured tradition of going to Roda for comfort had failed. But it wasn’t nothing he’d done; nothing he’d done _yet._ And damn it… she couldn’t explain. Couldn’t tell him why she was pushing away, not without tearing both of their timelines to shreds. He’d told her as much, in the Medusa Cascade.

> _“Roda...”_
> 
> _For the first time he had hesitated. The intensity of her gaze, or the panic at the back of her mind_ _… something had made him stop, take stock, and step out of the scene, for just a moment._
> 
> _“I... guess this is the real reason why you stopped-,” he paused, correcting himself, “_ will _stop - seeing me._ _”_
> 
> _“Depends what you do…”_

She had replied, voice cautious. Unsure of what he meant, and what he was about to do. Why they were going to end, when she still didn’t even know what he was doing here, right now. And oh, had she known how badly their times had been crossed, she might never have done what she had done, in the Medusa Cascade.

Oblivious to his own prophecy and her roiling thoughts - clearly trying to make light of the situation - the Seeker shot her a self deprecating smile and ran his hand through his curly black hair.

“What, you don’t like the new look?” Roda sighed inwardly. There was Jack’s influence in him, growing up. The built-up wall of confidence that hid the pain. She had one, too.

They both needed the immortal for very different reasons (and took very different things from him) but some things were the same. Would it be Jack that the Seeker would go to, next? He needed someone; that someone just couldn’t be her today.

Would things ever be the same again?

“I would’ve thought you’d be _used_ to this, Time Lady and all-”

“It’s not that.” Roda’s hands made empty gestures in the air as she fished for the right words to say. _There aren_ _’t any._ “We just…” She pinched the bridge of her nose with both hands, and let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. “We can’t do this anymore. I can’t.”

“Then what?” The Seeker reached out for her, trying to understand what he could do. “Roda, just tell me what I’ve-”

It was all that she could do not to take his hand in her own. To do what had to be done.

“Please, Seeker,” she turned her head, busying herself with nothing in particular on the console. The lights of her TARDIS dimmed, and she pulled her hand away as a static shock made its opinion of her actions quite clear. _Please don_ _’t_ , she begged the TARDIS silently. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is.” Her gut clenched. The lie felt like glue in her mouth. “I just don’t want you anymore.”

The silence that opened up a hole between them made everything so much worse. _Will he forgive me?_ Roda asked herself, continuing to press buttons at random, and perfectly aware that it would very much _look_ that way. _Will it help when he knows the_ real _reason why I_ _’m doing this?_ It didn’t help her own guilt, no matter how betrayed she still felt. The Seeker sat beside her, speechless for one of the first times in his life, as Roda refused to make eye contact with him.

A hand strayed to her face, pushing a few stray hairs out of her eyes absentmindedly. A nervous habit. She had to keep moving, fidgeting, circling the console and plugging in a set of coordinates at random as she tried to remind herself that time healed all wounds, eventually. As she glanced at the screen, it didn’t surprise her that she’d set things up for a trip to Sherwood Forest. Her hand hovered over the lever to set the TARDIS into flight. _Shoot some targets. Get this out of my system. Get back to Torchwood in time for Jack not to know that anything_ _’s wrong._

As though coming to a conclusion at last the Seeker stood up, cleared his throat, and adjusted his too-big lapels.

“I’ll… leave you to it, then.”

“If you need to use the Zero Room,” Roda offered, pathetically, “you know you’re always-”

“No.” His tone faltered for just a second, and then there was nothing in his voice to suggest that he was anything other than entirely collected. “The regeneration _went_ fine. It just happened… unexpectedly.”

“Well, then…” Roda paused, closing her eyes and rested her forehead against the humming console while she fought to keep her voice steady. “I’ve, uh…” She waved at the console. “Places to be, a lot of things to do.”

“Another important lesson.”

The Seeker froze in the doorway to the TARDIS, his eyes locked ahead on nothing in particular.

“Be careful.”

“Oh, Roda,” the Seeker laughed dryly. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

He turned his head. It seemed to last forever. Roda looked up, and when she saw the way he was studying her... she wished that she hadn't.

“Goodbye, lover.”

As the TARDIS doors closed on their relationship, Roda set the ship in motion and sank to the floor with her head on her knees. _The end of an era_ _…_ their relationship was broken, and they might never get it back again. She wrapped her arms around her knees and listened to the TARDIS taking off, trying not to break into tears. They both needed someone tonight… her, _and_ the Seeker. For the first time in near a century, they’d both be looking for it elsewhere.


End file.
